


Slowly, Towards You, At Last

by CaptainTarthister



Series: The Lannisters Are Coming [9]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Boners, Bar Fight, Beaches make Brienne real horny too, Beaches make Jaime hornier, Cunnilingus, F/M, Family Fluff, Oral Sex, Romance, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sorta Past Life, Sweet Sex, getting drunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-16
Updated: 2015-09-24
Packaged: 2018-04-21 00:53:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 62,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4808690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainTarthister/pseuds/CaptainTarthister
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brienne takes Jaime to the Sapphire Isle to meet her family for the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome to Tarth

All characters by George RR Martin.  
I own nothing and know nothing.

 

Tarth was a four-hour flight, quite long, Jaime Lannister’s opinion, to be cooped up in one place. At least, he thought, glancing at his companion, who was fast asleep with her head on his shoulder, she had let him spring for business class seats. Flying economy was unnecessary self-flagellation, what with its narrow seats barely fitting their broad, tall frames and leg room designed with midgets in mind.

Speaking of legs, Jaime’s eyes trailed down appreciatively Brienne Tarth’s pair that went on for days. Seriously. How could anyone have such endless legs? She was wearing shorts, it being summer. Despite strong winds from the sea, she had told him that Tarth was going to be warmer than Westeros. The nights would be cool, and her room looked out into the sea. Jaime looked forward to sleeping with breathing her vanilla scent and the salty tang coming from the window and waking up to find sunlight on her skin.  
Of course, she warned him too that her father Selwyn, a four-star general who retired with full military honors, was conservative. He might insist that they keep separate rooms. It was a small challenge. He wasn’t going to be awake to stand guard the whole night, was he? Jaime told her. He could always sneak into her room. “Or I go to yours,” she said, surprising him with her sudden boldness. He remembered her face warming to a rich tomato colour when she spoke. 

Jaime felt his eyes drift close and soon he was deep in a dream of swimming in sapphire waters. 

Sometime later, a soft, deep voice was speaking to him. He sighed he felt Brienne moving in her seat, her arm going over his waist to reach for the seatbelt he had loosened to sleep comfortably. When she finished buckling it, she found his sleepy yet clear, green eyes on her. It was hard to pinpoint what shade of green his eyes were, she thought. When he teased her, they shone like emeralds, when he woke up, soft jade, when he made love to her, a dark, vivid green that hungrily looked at her face and every inch of her body as she yielded with a scream. 

“Thanks,” he murmured when she leaned back on her seat. 

“We’re landing soon,” she told him. “Sorry I used your shoulder for a pillow.”

He shook his head, a lazy grin stretching his lips. “Feel free to use any part of me as a pillow anytime you like.” True, his shoulder felt stiff but the discomfort would ease in a short while. And if she didn’t sleep on him, she’d be the one with the crick in her neck. He liked having her in his arms too much.

As Jaime continued sitting, barely moving as his body was still heavy with sleep, he watched Brienne take out her handbag from under the seat. She retrieved a hairbrush and a compact mirror. Her hair had grown some these past few months, though it was still short, just a little bit below her ears. It was blonde but pale and more the color of straw. She was trying to coax some volume on one side, which was flat from being pressed on his shoulder, while the other side stuck out in all directions. Since she had slept longer, her eyes were not shadowed nor heavy-lidded. 

Love made you saw someone clearly and more. Brienne Tarth would never be beautiful. With her pale, heavily-freckled skin, crooked nose as a result of accidents when she was younger and a pair of lips too thick and a mouth too wide for her jaw, her face seemed like a series of features tacked on with little thought to their result. But her eyes were something else: round and bright, they were the most brilliant shade of blue Jaime had seen. They were a rare shade of sapphire. They probably looked wrong on her face, mismatching the rest of her odd features but he couldn’t imagine them on anyone else, and if the effect on his heart rate would be as strong. When she smiled, in spite of her crooked teeth or maybe because of them, he thought it most endearing and sweet. 

They landed twenty minutes later. As soon as the pilot gave them the signal, seatbelts were loosened and people started to stand up and reach for their bags from the overhead bins. Jaime got his carry-on, a messenger-style bag that held his passport, wallet, and other essentials. Brienne already had her handbag, which was now slung over her shoulder.  
He preceded her down the metal stairs, glancing at her as he took the first step. Brienne couldn’t help the little smile teasing the corners of her lips. She wondered for the nth time since meeting Jaime Lannister how she had come to deserve someone who cared so much for her.

Jaime liked to tease and wind her up, and it got worse when her body’s capillaries refused to cooperate and sent her into a full, vivid blush. He played with her hair, fluffing it still despite her warning him it took her an hour to get it all fixed and settled on her head, he liked to grab her while walking in the middle of the street and kiss her fully and deeply on the mouth, heedless of the pedestrians that had to walk around them. He liked to tickle her feet, and insisted on putting her legs on his laps despite her weak protests because though she knew it was inevitable, it amazed her that he liked having her skin on him. Actually, she could tell that Jaime liked touching. _A lot._

Brienne knew she grew up in a warm, loving home but her Uncles Galladon, Duncan and Endrew were awkward when it came to affection. They were either exuberant or it was absent entirely. She got a pat on the head for acing her science pop quiz, she got a quick hug that came with too-hard slaps on her back when she was awarded most valuable player in high school. Her father Selwyn, when he finally retired, was no better. He wasn’t a terrible father, he was good, actually, but he wasn’t demonstrative either. The man just grunted, then nodded, shot her a quick, crooked smile, squeezing her on the shoulder as he did after she told him about getting accepted into University of Braavos. 

Then her two relationships pre-Jaime were far from affectionate. One of them wasn’t even a relationship. Her first boyfriend, Hyle Hunt, who was in the male volleyball team in college, was frustrated with having to wait when she was ready for sex that he dumped her. Angry, hurt and frustrated, Brienne agreed to go out with her psych professor’s TA, a guy whose name she couldn’t even remember. But she slept with him after he took her out to dinner. It wasn’t a good at all—he was fast and it hurt, really hurt. As soon as the deed was done, Brienne left his apartment and changed professors. She ignored his calls and messages until they stopped coming. 

Then she and Hyle hooked up again soon after she started grad school. This time they slept together. Brienne still found the experience lacking, and she knew she was partly to blame. She wasn’t comfortable with being naked, knew too well that her breasts were too small, her waist too muscular and boyish, her hips wide yet far from womanly, her thighs thick and strong, her legs corded with muscle. She wasn’t a fan of a lot of touching either, she just couldn’t relax. Just as she was thinking of dumping Hyle, he beat her to it and told her she was a frigid giant bitch. That hurt, really hurt. She forgot all about her study date with Renly Baratheon, who came to her apartment, found her teary face buried in a pillow and hiccupping loudly in between sips of ice-cold water. He moved too fast and she had to put on shoes before she could go after him. By then it was too late—it was chaos at Ye Old Gods, their favorite bar and hangout, because Renly, upon sighting Hyle from the window, went to him and without a word sent his ham-sized fist straight to his nose. 

Jaime Lannister changed everything.

When he looked at her, she felt herself and for the first time her life, loved the skin she was in. It made her feel warm and tingly when he looked at her as she spoke, his eyes occasionally drifting to her lips before they took in the entirety on her face and then later, staring at her lips again. When they were together, he couldn’t seem to touch her enough. He liked to kiss her behind the ear, sneaking in a naughty flick of his tongue that had her biting her lip. He put his hand on her knee under the table when they dined with his family at Casterly Rock, or slipped his fingers between hers. When the wind rendered her hair messier, he tucked the stubborn locks behind her ears, cupped her face. In the quiet of the morning hour, as they chewed their food, he would reach for her and run a finger down her cheek or cup her face, his eyes warming as she leaned into his hand. It was mundane moments like that when she felt his love and needed no words.

Sex was a whole different touching game. Jaime Lannister was a force so devastating, so wonderful, that Brienne often thought she just had the hardest orgasm of her life until her proved to her shortly that no, this next one was. He went from zero to a hundred miles an hour, starting with light, tender kisses that ghosted over skin, trailing up her legs, her belly button, her cheek, her mouth. It was those little kisses, heated and hungry, that turned her into a puddle of mush. Then he would suddenly be on to her, his mouth possessive over hers, his hands touching her everywhere, his cock gliding in and out of her cunt with the ease of a gun slipping into a well-oiled holster. His lips attacked her throat as she gasped from the force of his thrusts, blushing even more when she heard the loud squelch of their contact. She couldn’t wrap her legs tight enough, he couldn’t get deep enough. Then it was a battle, a fight to the death, if you will, as to who could make the other yield first. Brienne had been forced to surrender as many times as Jaime, all the strength in their bodies gone, their breaths hard gasps. She didn’t expect, didn’t know sex could be _this good_ , that she could be so comfortable being naked and touched so. 

She reached for his hand when they got into the carousel area. His green eyes licked her from head to toe, lingering boldly at her mouth, her breasts, then between her thighs. She bowed her head but wasn’t able to hide the blush that bloomed in her cheeks at his gaze. It didn’t help when she caught his eyes smouldering at the sight of her nipples suddenly straining against her shirt. She found bras uncomfortable and she wasn’t full enough to fill out a cup so she didn’t wear them unless she had to. With Jaime, she was beginning to think she should wear them more often. There was no way to control her response to him. 

He pressed his lips to her ear. “We should have fucked in the plane.”

“You’re ridiculous. Did you see the bathroom?”

“Yes. It would work. You hold on to me tight and I fuck you deep. Trust me.”

He grinned as her blushed got deeper. “This is not appropriate conversation in public, Jaime,” she said, keeping her eyes on the colourful bags going around them in the carousel.

“Where can we have an inappropriate conversation?” 

“Ugh.” She rolled her eyes but didn’t push him away when he put an arm around her waist. 

As they watched for the bags, Jaime nuzzled her neck and then whispered, “Are you wearing panties?”

“What—Jaime—come on,” And he laughed. He so loved it when she sputtered. Brienne, though she was having a full body blush now, glared at him. 

“We should fuck in the beach before we leave,” he continued to say in her ear. “I’ve never done that. Have you?”

“You haven’t? You who just last week yanked me behind an alley and. . .and” Brienne shook her head. 

“Fucked you,” he finished. “Well, there aren’t really beaches in Westeros. The port’s too busy. I don’t want other people knowing your magnificent nakedness.”

“Yet you want to fuck in public.”

“Oh come on! Isn’t that like an unofficial law in Tarth?”

“No. Jaime, look,” Brienne faced him. She held his face between her large palms. “Um, the way you talk, you know, I hate it when you tease me—“

“All the more why I like doing it.”

“You’re hopeless. Yes. I know you. The more you’re told not to do something, the more you’ll do it. Gods, I don’t know what to do with you sometimes—“

“Fucking me would be a good start.”

“Jaime!” she hissed. “We’re here. In Tarth. A place where my family is well-known. It’s not like in Westeros where if people see us in public, they don’t realize right away you’re a Lannister though yes, they do look at you. Let’s. . .let’s behave, okay? Please?”

He kissed her on the mouth, taking her lower lips briefly between his and sucking it. When he pulled away, with great reluctance, he saw the heat of want in her eyes yet also the urgency behind her request.

“You’re behaved all the time. I will behave. You have my word on it. But sex in the beach, that can’t be completely off the table. Please?” He winked at her.

“We’ll fuck in my room. You can hear the beach from there.”

“Will I hear the beach in mine?”

“You can hear the beach anywhere in the house. It’s just as good as doing it. . .there.”

“Actually, I can hear the beach now. If it’s just as good, as you say, that means I can get you behind an alley here and fuck you—“ And because he so enjoyed winding her up, he grabbed her hand. Brienne quickly dug her heels on the floor and yanked him back.

“Don’t be an idiot.”

“Alright. I was just kidding. Geez, you make it so easy, so fun to tease you. Don’t change.”

He spoke the words sincerely, tenderly. She brushed her knuckles on his cheek and turned away to look for their bags. He thought it prudent to keep away from her a few inches because his shorts were getting tight.

They hefted their bags off the carousel. Both of them were using trolleys, so it was easier to just pull rather than lug them around. They exited the arrivals area and Brienne led him towards the line of cabs of waiting for passengers. She started to, anyway, until a loud, booming voice swept through the air calling her name.

Brienne turned and shrieked. “Uncle Gal!”

Jaime watched as Brienne dropped her bags on the ground and ran toward a large man with long, thin straw-blond hair and heavy shoulders. He was wearing a hibiscus print shirt, ripped jeans and sandals. Brienne threw her arms around him and Jaime saw he had the same eyes as her, blue and bright and twinkling. Jaime grabbed the discarded bags and walked to the embracing pair.

“My Little Bree!” Galladon Tarth said, squeezing her to his chest. He nodded at Jaime. “Is this him?”

“Jaime,” Brienne grabbed his hand and tugged him to her side with little effort. “Meet my uncle, Galladon Tarth. Uncle Gal, this is my Jaime. I mean, my boyfriend, Jaime Lannister.”

Jaime felt something in him clapping and cheering at Brienne referring to him as “My Jaime.” As she should. He extended his hand toward the man. “Pleased to meet you, sir. I am indeed hers.”

“Sir, pah,” Galladon said, shaking his head. Jaime was tall at six-foot-two and had large hands. But Galladon looked to be four inches taller than Brienne, with a wide, broad frame. His hand easily swallowed Jaime’s and shook it so exuberantly he feared his arm would get torn off its socket. He found himself breathing in relief when Galladon dropped his hand.

“Jaime, you call me Uncle Gal, like little Bree here,” Galladon said, grabbing her by the waist again, “Or Gal. No sirs. Oh.” He grinned. “Except for my brother. Welcome to Tarth.”

“Don’t scare him Uncle Gal,” Brienne said. “What are you doing here? I didn’t know you were going to pick us up.” 

“Thought I’d surprise you. Little Bree here hates surprises. So, all the more that I surprise her,” Galladon told Jaime.

“And stop calling me Little Bree. I’m six-foot-three.”

“I’m still taller than you. You’re tall, Jaime, but not as tall as the Little Bree here. I guess the next generation of Tarths will be regular-sized folk, eh?”

Jaime’s grin was wide while Brienne blushed. “Uncle Gal!”

“What? You’ve never brought a boy home until this one. That tells me things are serious.” Then he narrowed his eyes at Jaime. “You’ll do right by Little Bree here, boy, and not leave her alone with a bastard.”

Jaime saw Brienne die and wish for the ground to swallow her. Taking pity on her, but unable to stop the laugh bubbling out of him, he said, “Never. But I’m sorry to tell you, Uncle Gal, she’s not carrying my cub. _Yet._ ”

“ _Jaime!_ Don’t you pile on, come on!” Brienne complained. 

“Ah, so you’re _that_ Lannister, eh? Well, when you put a cub in her, make sure she’s got a ring on her finger first. And a ceremony. Otherwise it won’t be proper.”

“Alrght, that is enough. Uncle Gal, Jaime is my boyfriend. We’re serious but we’re not. . .we’re not there yet. And it’s embarrassing. You’re pressuring him! And me! Jaime, for the love of the Seven, just quit stoking the fire. You’re almost as worse as this man,” she added, glaring at her uncle.

“Sorry,” they both told her.

“Well, off we go then. Let’s get you to Evenfall and meet the rest of us. You’ll love Tarth, boy. Surfing. The best seafood. Biggest lobsters and sweetest prawns. Most beautiful waters,” Galladon told Jaime, clapping him on the back. The two men went off, talking.

Brienne rolled her eyes. “Looks like I’m in charge of the bags, then.”

So she trailed after them, pulling the trolleys behind her.


	2. Brienne Says Relax

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne arrive at Evenfall Hall. Jaime is suddenly nervous. Brienne's attempts to relax him backfire.

Uncle Gal’s jeep was a junk heap , dusted heavily with sand and looked like it should be put out of its misery. Jaime soon forgot about this as Brienne took the passenger seat, climbing over the door with her long legs, sleek, ivory swords flashing in the sun and thrusting into his heart. Jaime got in the back, with the bags. He was just about to ask if there was a strap to secure them when Uncle Gal gunned the engine and hit the gas. Hard.

Jaime held on tight on the bars on his side as Uncle Gal threw the jeep down the road. Now Jaime drove fast, relished the purring sound of an engine as he easily controlled the machine. Uncle Gal drove faster, way faster. He sped down the curving paved roads, turning so sharply that Jaime was thrown off his seat and as he lurched hard, saw that if not for his hands quickly grabbing the bars, it was a long way down to the ocean, which was the bluest he had ever seen. Uncle Gal made another turn and Jaime, anticipating it now, held hard and fast.

Brienne was unperturbed, with only a frayed seatbelt buckled on and her grip on the bar above loose. In the sun, her skin looked milky and her freckles seemed to get more red. Sensing his eyes on her, she turned and asked, “Are you okay, Jaime?”

“I’ll live,” he told her as Uncle Gal flew the car over a speed bump and landed hard, the entire jeep rattling.

“I call this beaut Lacey,” Uncle Gal said. “She’s been in the shop more times than on the road but when she’s fixed ah, she’s the best there is. People have been telling me for years to change her out but Lacey and I, we’ve been through a lot.”

“Still, uncle, you can afford to get another and just drive Lacey on weekends,” Brienne told him.

“You have to drive her so she keeps on working well. You learned to drive on her, Little Bree.”

Jaime smiled. “I can’t fathom that there was time that you were little, Brienne.”

“Ooh!” Uncle Galladon slapped the wheel. “We’ve got tons and tons of albums—“

“Uncle Gal!” Brienne protested. “Don’t you dare!”

“I would love to see photographic proof you used to be a little bit,” Jaime announced.

“Hah! Little, yes. But a bit? Never!” Uncle Galladon told him. "But yes, Jaime, you should and you will!"

At Brienne's scowl, Jaime told her, “You’ve seen my baby pictures, Brienne. Fair’s fair.”

“That’s because you were a cute baby. Oh gods, it’s like I’ve walked into a nightmare,” Brienne groaned.

“You were a cute baby!” Uncle Galladon exclaimed. 

“Blood makes you biased.”

As they argued, Jaime took in the sights. Despite being a small isle, there were business booming all over Tarth. So far he’d counted two motorbike rentals, five surf shops, at least a couple of what appeared to be fancy restaurants, three grocery stores, a gourmet wine and cheese shop. Despite the presence of commercial establishments, Tarth still retained much of its beauty, natural and wild. The forests were thick and there were signs all over that indicated they were protected areas. The waters, from the many times he found himself almost falling to his death, were clear. It was easy to imagine himself in another time. Maybe a traveller. Maybe a knight, seeking refuge in the Sapphire Isle and living the rest of his days there. 

It took him a while to realize that Uncle Gal was taking them higher and higher in the mountains. The winds got stronger and Jaime found himself having to breathe deeper as the air thinned. He smelled salt and sand, sunlight, and he found himself both relaxed and refreshed despite the thinning air.

Soon, he spied Evenfall Hall. It stood at the highest point of Tarth, a small, gray castle that was clearly old. Yet, he found himself smiling. It was straight out of a children’s storybook, when he enjoyed looking at photos more than reading the words. It did not have the grandeur of Casterly Rock and he liked it primarily for this reason. He found Casterly Rock too big, too ostentatious. Sure, Evenfall Hall was a castle, smaller, yes, but it looked sturdy and unyielding, able to withstand the most brutal bombardment. It was a stronghold and a fortress yet he knew, though this was his first time, it would be homey inside, and warm.   
The lawns were trimmed and a dark green, even in the heat of the summer. Jaime couldn’t identify the few flowers but noticed that the garden was filled more with ferns, some found only in Tarth, but there were also plants that he thought looked too exotic. It was one of his regrets that he never knew his mother long enough for her to share her interest in plants and gardening with him, that he never had the inclination. 

“Evenfall Hall!” Uncle Galladon announced. “Welcome, Jaime.”

“Where’s Dad?” Brienne asked as he stopped the car. Once again, rather than opening the door, she simply climbed over it. There was no door where Jaime was so he simply leaped down. 

“Definitely not sitting on his wrinkly ass,” Uncle Gal told her, winking. He grinned at Jaime. “How are you over there, Lannister? Shaking in your shoes? You should.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Brienne told Jaime.

For the first time since arriving, Jaime was unsure. “Uh, Brienne, maybe I should change first.” His shirt and shorts, comfortable and apt for the weather, suddenly looked wrinkled.

“Just having fun with you, Jaime,” Uncle Gal slapped his on the back again and Jaime coughed. “We don’t do suits here. We expect you to be dressed but no suits. You’re not in Westeros. Hell, you’re not in Casterly Rock! The next time you’re there you should send me a photo of Little Bree in a dress. She hates dresses! How do you get her to wear them when dining with your father?”

“Oh, I think she likes them now,” Jaime said as he removed their bags from the Jeep.

“Leave them there. Someone will take care of them, don’t you worry. Come on. My brother awaits.” Uncle Galladon strode ahead of them.   
Jaime looked at Brienne as she took his hand again. Her grip was warm and strong. He hated that his hand was damp. But Brienne, as they walked, turned his palm toward her and kissed it. 

“Relax. My father is no Tywin Lannister,” she told him.

“The Seven is merciful,” Jaime said dramatically. He frowned when she laughed.

“My father will love you, Jaime. I promise. You don’t believe me?”

“I’m a lot older than you.”

“Just ten years.”

“That’s a lot. You father will look at me like some sleazy, cradle-robbing pervert.”

“I’m twenty-eight. Just to remind you.”

“You know what I mean.”

“So it wasn’t an issue for Tywin that you were dating a much younger woman?”

“Hell, no. The younger the better. You get more Lannisters that way. That’s just his way of thinking,” Jaime clarified when she frowned.

“You’re so tensed. You’re holding my hand too tightly. You’re flushed. I’ve never seen you like this,” Brienne suddenly stopped and with her hand on his cheek, urged him to face her. “Is there anything I can do?”

“That. That thing you’re doing now.” Jaime closed his eyes. “ _Gods._ Feels nice.”

“Would you like a kiss?”

“Always.”

Brienne bent her head and he met her kiss. It was a gentle rubbing of their lips together, with only the slightest tongue. But Brienne moaned and Jaime felt his cock leap eagerly at the sound. Breathing harshly, he grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her away from him. Puzzled, Brienne was about to ask but saw him looking down. 

He felt her entire body leap to a higher temperature.

“Fuck,” she whispered, shocked.

“ _I can’t meet your father like this!_ ” He practically squeaked.

Uncle Gal, who was leading them to the side of the house, turned and called, “Hey, what’s the hold-up? Get over here so it’s over and done with, come on! I thought you’re a lion, Jaime!”

“Fuck,” Jaime gasped as Uncle Galladon started approaching them.

“Um, um, Uncle Gal!” Brienne turned and shifted to Jaime’s front. “Um, I need to take Jaime to the bathroom. He’s feeling dizzy. Dad’s out in the workshop?”

“Yep. Hacking at wood.”

“I know where to find him then.”

“I’m so sorry,” Jaime told Uncle Galladon as Brienne took his hand.

“Happens to all of us. Go, let her take care of you,” Uncle Galladon waved goodbye to them.

Brienne led Jaime into the castle. He trailed after her, cursing the unfortunate hard-on that refused to go away. He barely had time to notice the artwork on the walls or anything aside from the long hallway she brought him to. And then she was pushing open a door and pulling him in. Jaime slammed his back on the door, breathing hard.

“Fuck,” he gasped.

“I’m so sorry,” Brienne apologized, still looking at the tent in his shorts.

“Never be sorry about kissing me, Brienne. I’m sorry to be such a green boy. . .” He squeezed his eyes shut. “ _Seven Hells._ Give me something terrible to think about.”

“Oh! Um. Ah. . .hunger—“

He was hungry for her mouth.

“Ah, um. . .devastation. . .”

He wanted to hike her legs up his waist and take her against the wall and make her scream. Or what about that sink? The shelf looked wide and seemed to be made of stone. They might break the door. 

“Fire, maybe? Yes, burning.”

The heat of her. The heat of her he so wanted to plunge in now. 

“Images, Brienne,” he pleaded. “All I can think about is taking you.”

“Maybe we should have fucked in the plane,” she muttered. Then she reached a decision. “Jaime,” she said, putting her hands on her waist. “You’re tense. You have to channel it somewhere. I know what to do.”

He had his eyes closed. “Maybe an ice pack. Maybe Bronn’s hairy ass. Bronn’s hairy ass! Come on! Bronn’s hairy ass!”

“Stop,” Brienne was suddenly in front of him. She reached for his hands. “Jaime. Look at me.”

His eyes fluttered open.

“Keep your eyes on me,” she whispered, reaching for the buttons of her shirt.

He did but he only lasted for three seconds. With a growl, he grabbed her to him, kissing her desperately, finding relief that for this time it wouldn’t be sweet, chaste kisses with lips. He wanted her mouth. He wanted her tongue. He wanted her. He unbuttoned her shirt, barely restraining himself from tearing it off her. Brienne, who started unbuttoning his, gave up because her hands were shaking so much. She pulled it over his head. Warm, golden skin brushed against moonlight. 

Shorts were discarded, followed by underwear, only to end up stuck around their ankles. He palmed her cunt, once again amazed that she can get so wet, so fast, and slipped two fingers past her curls to play. Her head fell on his shoulder as she let him. Her heart drummed hard in her chest as his fingers curled and turned in her. But it wasn’t enough. She needed more. He wanted more.   
It would have looked funny, Brienne awkwardly backing away, almost landing on her ass on the floor before she was leaning against the sink. She boosted herself up and Jaime, shuffling after her, his shorts and boxers puddled at his ankles too, went under and between her legs before he straightened up.

She drank from his lips, moaning, her nails scoring his back. He groaned, sucking on the soft, delicate tip of her ear. “Brienne,” he gasped when her hand found his cock. He was so hard, it hurt so much. She widened her legs, about to pull him in when he stopped her.

“I’m so sorry to rush this,” he told her.

“I’m not. I want you now, Jaime.”

“Yes. _Fuck._ Yes, please.”

Her hard thighs and muscled legs were tight around his hips as she took him inside, her cunt easily stretching around him. Jaime sighed, finding himself home at last in her warmth, her so very wet, tight warmth. 

Despite their need for each other, their union was slow, almost careful. Brienne kissed a tender circle around his face. Jaime revelled at how good she felt around him, and the way her cunt walls gripped him as if she was never letting him go. He looked at her eyes and she rested her forehead against his. He licked the tip of her nose. She thrust against him, shyly.

“ _Please_. Take me. _Fuck me,_ ” she begged huskily.

He thrust, just picking up the pace a little. Brienne shook her head. Her eyes shone. “More, please. _Please,_ more.”

“Gods, Brienne, _you’re going to kill me_ ,” he spoke through gritted teeth, speeding up. “But what a way to go.”

She gasped as he touched that magical spot inside her. Noticing her reaction, he started pummelling it with his cock, drawing one beautiful moan after another from her. Brienne’s head fell back, and in doing so offered her breasts to him. Thanking their close heights, Jaime swooped down and pulled a nipple in his mouth. 

“Jaime,” she cried out, pushing at him, pushing her breast deeper to his mouth. “ _Gods, Jaime. . ._ ”

She tugged at his hair. Jaime groaned, not from the pain but from being deprived of her sweet nipple. She quickly replaced it with her mouth and his tongue pushed past her lips. He fucked her mouth in tandem with his thrusts.

He smothered Brienne’s scream with a kiss, driving at her weeping cunt like a man possessed. He latched his mouth onto her softness, biting her lip and sucking at it when he felt his balls draw tight. He groaned as he spilled in her. Brienne tightened her arms and legs around him, her breathing sharp and pitched. She sagged against the wall and he followed her, pressing his face to her shoulder.

“You’re fucking unbelievable, Brienne,” he whispered. Sweat was pouring down the sides of his face. Her chest also gleamed with her own. 

She laughed, a throaty sound. “I love you too, Jaime.” 

“Can’t we stay here? Can’t I stay here?” His cock, semi-flaccid now, pushed in her. 

“Idiot.” But her mouth fell open a little. He kissed her. 

“How are you feeling?” She asked as he continued kissing her. 

He smiled at her. “Much better. You take real good care of me, you know that?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never read the books so my description of Tarth and Evenfall Hall are my own.


	3. Meet the General

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime meets Selwyn.   
> Selwyn doesn't seem too pleased.

As it always went after making love to Jaime, Brienne found herself dazed and moving at a languid pace. There was no mistaking the adoration on her face as she looked at him while they walked down the path to her Dad’s workshop. Jaime had his arm around her waist, his hip bumping hers at every step. But he was strutting, with his shoulders back, chin up, chest out. His lips were quirked in a knowing, arrogant smirk that Brienne wanted to punch off but she didn’t think her fist would carry that much force, not with how she was feeling now.

Jaime, thank the Seven, now looked his usual, sure self. It had been disconcerting to see him so anxious that he sprang a boner during a little kiss and no amount of unpleasant imagery (Brienne was now nagged with photos of how hairy Bronn Stokeworth’s ass probably was) made it go away. It surprised her how his cock jumped to her hand as soon as she released him earlier. 

“Your father will not like me,” Jaime told her as they walked. She heard the worry in his voice but he was looking straight ahead and looked more determined than ever to deal with a situation that was delayed. “Fathers never like any man their daughters bring home.”

“Uncle Galladon liked you. He was my father at least half my life,” Brienne reassured him.

“It’s still different.”

She shook her head. “I can’t imagine how Dad will not like you. You’re smart. You’re successful. You eschewed the comfort of a family fortune and a sure job at Lannister Conglomerate to start your own business. It’s not easy what you do, Jaime. He’ll respect that.”

“But, he doesn’t have to like me.”

Brienne stopped so he stopped too. Raising a blonde brow, she asked, “If this is another tactic to get me naked, it’s not working.”

“Hey! I object! There was no ulterior motive earlier. Do you know that ever since you’ve come into my life, I’ve been having boners at the most awkward times? Yeah. I’m not kidding.”

“We’re not discussing your. . .your . . .erections in public!” Brienne hissed.

“There’s no one around us,” Jaime swept a hand through the property. He inclined his head at a gardener twenty feet away from them trimming the hedges. “Oh. There’s someone. But unless he’s got mutant ears or some super hearing ability, I wouldn’t worry.”

“Maybe you should think about sex less.”

He frowned. “Why the hell?”

Brienne started walking ahead of him. “Gods, if I say anything more I’m going to get roped in another discussion where I not only forget exactly what we’re talking about but also lose my clothes. My underwear’s diminished by half, thanks to you.”

Jaime caught her and locked an arm around her waist. She blushed as he nuzzled her ear. “Then stop wearing them. Really. How can you spend thirty dragons on something that’s as thin as tissue? Only for you to lose it.”

“ _You_ lose them, not me.”

He shrugged earnestly but she knew, oh, she knew he was making fun. “I’m a slave to your cunt, Brienne. I aim to serve and please and hate it when the littlest thing gets in the way.”

“Okay, if you spring another tent in your shorts you’re going to have to go behind the trees.”

“Not fun,” Jaime said, wincing. “Ah,” he nodded at the structure up ahead. “Is that the workshop? And wow, who’s that guy walloping that tree?”

The workshop was a modern addition but designed to coordinate with the appearance of the castle. Its walls were stone and gray, and looked small from the outside. It was more long than wide. Brienne knew that her father preferred working outside but all his tools were housed behind sliding glass doors inside the workshop. 

While Brienne’s eyes warmed at the man working before them, Jaime was impressed. He had his back to them as he hollowed out a tree into a canoe. He was dressed only in jeans. As he moved, the muscles of his back rippled, and those in his arms bulged. He was tall and trim and looked strong. Jaime tightened his hold on Brienne’s waist but she freed herself and started running.

“Dad!”

_Dad?_ That muscular, uber-man was Brienne's _father_? 

Selwyn Tarth turned away from the tree he was hacking to see his daughter running to him. Brienne slowed down to give him time to put on a t-shirt. When she reached him, she stood before him, a big, happy smile on her face. “Dad,” she repeated softly as he opened his arms and she stepped between them. She didn’t care he was sweating. He smelled of leaves and trees and home.

“Brienne,” he said, giving her a brief squeeze before setting her away from him. Then he looked past her shoulder. A small smile had broken across his face when he saw her running to him but now it was gone. It was replaced by a frown and eyes that peered at Jaime as if he were a specimen under a microscope. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other before taking a deep breath and following his girlfriend.

“Ah. Is this him?” He said, looking at Jaime with frank disapproval.

“Daddy, this is Jaime Lannister,” Brienne said, meeting him halfway and pulling his hand in hers. He couldn’t stop himself from squeezing her hand in thanks. “He’s my boyfriend. Jaime, this is my Dad, General Selywn Tarth.”

“Retired, mind you,” Selwyn said offering his hand for a shake. Jaime took it. 

“Good afternoon, Mr. Tarth.”

“He’s got manners, Brienne.” 

“Of course he does,” Brienne said, smiling at Jaime. He managed to give her a stiff smile, what with Selwyn glaring at him over Brienne’s shoulder. So that’s where she gets it from. Her old man doesn’t like me, he thought. 

Selwyn Tarth was not as tall nor as broad as Uncle Gal but he was taller than Brienne. His body tend towards wiry, despite having muscles that made Jaime feel like a scrawny, ninety-pound weakling. His chest was wide and his hips slim and narrow. Despite being out of the military for years, it was clear he was still as disciplined.

His eyes were a brilliant, clear blue like Brienne’s but this their only similarity. His hair was white now, as what happened to blondes as they aged. His face was lined deeply, like the bark of a tree. His nose had a hooked tip and his left cheek bore a thin, pale scar. His skin was tan, which meant that unlike Brienne he could stay in the sand and not turn as red as a lobster. 

“Is he better now?” Selwyn asked Brienne, ignoring Jaime. “Galladon said he wasn’t feeling good earlier.” He said it like it was a dubious, suspicious thing.

“Well, ah, there was some turbulence before we landed,” Brienne fibbed.

“Good he’s better now. “

“Hollowing out another tree, Dad?” Brienne gestured at the canoe made out of it.

“That’s how I work out these days. And you, Jaime? Do you work out? Maybe you could try your hand at it,” Selywyn told him.

“Sure. I’d like to try.” The challenge was evident in the older man’s voice.

“It’s either you do it no. People who try never get anything done.”

Brienne rolled her eyes and this time squeezed Jaime’s hand.

“How long have you two been going out?” Selwyn asked, getting straight to the point.

“Six months?” Brienne said just as Jaime answered, “Eight.”

They looked at each other. 

Selwyn raised his eyebrows. 

“So you’re Jaime Lannister,” he continued after a beat. “You’re Tywin’s son?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I met him once. I can understand why people are scared of him.”

“ _Dad!_ ” Brienne exclaimed while Jaime just looked at him.

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” Selywn told her. “Merely to tell Jaime that it takes a certain kind of man to have people running away from him without having to brandish a gun.”

“That’s no better,” Brienne grumbled.

“I’m nothing like my father, sir, “Jaime told Tywin. He sounded calm.

“Dad, I brought Jaime here to be introduced to the family, not to be attacked like this,” Brienne protested. She was trying to get in front Jaime but he restrained her by putting an arm around her waist. Selwyn saw this and kept his expression bland.

“I’m not attacking him,” Selwyn said. At the same time, Jaime spoke, “It’s nothing, Brienne.”

“But if that’s the impression I made, I owe you an apology, Jaime. Tact is something that eludes me. Five years ago, I was yelling at people. Military, you know. We yell because it’s good for the lungs. My Brienne here,” and Jaime didn’t miss his emphasis on the pronoun, “told me I was scaring off people because they thought me angry. It took some practicing. Now I even whisper!”

Brienne looked at Jaime. He nodded. “There’s no need to apologize, sir. I took no offense.”

“I’m going to show Jaime around,” Brienne said after a few seconds of observing the two men size each other up. Selwyn loomed over Jaime. 

“Maybe you should go get a jacket or a sweater,” Selwyn told her. “It’s going to be dark in a while and it gets cold here despite the summer.”

“Okay. Um. . .Dad?” Suddenly, Brienne was blushing.

“Yes?”

“Um. . .we’re in my room, right?”

And Jaime felt for Selwyn Tarth as his shoulders sank and he let out a long-suffering sigh. “Yes. You and. . .Jaime will be in your old room.”

_No wonder,_ Jaime thought as Brienne tugged him away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Lannister Conglomerate has its tentacles everywhere: pharmaceuticals, science, food and beverage, communications, weapons and the like. At some point, I believe Selwyn Tarth met Tyrion Lannister and the two men do not like each other. At all. We're not going to have a Romeo and Juliet thing--Tywin likes Brienne, what's not to like about her? But with Selwyn being iffy towards the elder Lannister and now knowing the son is his daughter's boyfriend. . .it's going to be an interesting vacation. 
> 
> But I think Jaime and Brienne won this first bout when Brienne asks Selwyn if she's sharing her room with Jaime and he's supposed to acknowledge then and there that yes, his daughter's an adult and she's having sex.


	4. Three Men and A Little Bree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introducing Galladon, Endrew and Duncan

“The cub survived unscathed,” remarked Endrew Tarth, peering through his binoculars. Brienne was pulling Jaime behind her as they left Selwyn. “Of course, I knew Little Bree wouldn’t let anything happen to him.”

“Selwyn should get that stick out of his ass,” Galladon said. “How is he our brother again?”

“If you had your own daughter, you’d be wary when she brings a male friend home too,” Duncan told Galladon.

The three Tarth brothers were in the kitchen, enjoying coffee and cute little pastries the chef had made. The kitchen looked out into Selwyn’s workshop, and they had watched while sipping their hot beverage and stuffing bits of cake in their mouths that interesting scene of their niece practically jumping in front of her boyfriend and protecting him from her father.

“If Jaime Lannister were one of those `friends,” Galladon told them, “believe me, I wouldn’t like Lannister either. You haven’t met him yet. You should see for yourselves how he’s flipped over our Little Bree.”

It was a little odd that big, lumbering men that they were, they preferred snacking on coffee and delicate pastries. Duncan only had tea, and put three sugar cubes in it before sipping it. Galladon’s coffee was overwhelmed with cream. Endrew’s choice of drink was tea, but mixed with actual cream. 

Tarths were known for their tall, broad, strong builds. Galladon was the tallest at six-foot-seven, and had all the classic Tarth features: pale blond hair, bright blue eyes, thick, muscular shoulders. Selwyn was six-foot-four but probably because he was in the military for most of his life, his build was lean but no less muscular. Duncan was six-foot-five and wore his straw-blond hair to his shoulders and also kept a matching moustache that he grew from the corners of his lips. His arms were thick and he looked the heaviest and was teased often for his lumbering walk. Last was Endrew, the shortest at six foot-two. He was nicknamed, despite his protests, “Endwarf.”

Duncan and Endrew were at work when Brienne had arrived with the Jaime Lannister. Tarth was a long way off from Westeros but the ocean did not make them unaware of the power of a Lannister name. Though Jaime was not in any way part of the Lannister business empire like his siblings, his exploits had reached their humble isle. So they were well aware of the animosity between him and Aerys Targaryen, that to this day the young lion was still suffering the repercussions of crossing his former mentor. 

When Galladon went to the airport to surprise them, he had been expecting a formal young man looking around Tarth contemptuously, comparing it to Casterly Rock and Westeros and always finding it lacking. Instead, when Galladon spotted his niece’s familiar blond hair and tall frame standing out from the crowd, he found a man who was clearly in love.

Perhaps Jaime didn’t know it. Maybe Brienne didn’t know it either. But Galladon had lived long enough to recognize passion. His niece clearly felt this for Jaime, as he saw her put her hand on his cheek and Jaime close his eyes. The lion felt it for her too, with how he held her and looked at her as if she were the best thing to walk the earth. At that point, Galladon was no longer surprised.   
When he picked them up in his dear old Lacey, he made sure to take note of any disapproval on the lion’s face. Instead, Jaime had watched his niece climb over and then did the same. Galladon barely restrained his laughter as Jaime was whipped around the jeep during their wild drive. He was expecting some snarky comment or a diva attitude, Lannisters were used to the best, after all. What happened was Jaime held on to his life and seemed to think it an adventure. That was unexpected. 

It was a lift in the spirits to see Brienne so happy for the first time in her life. She didn’t have the easiest childhood, what with her father gone and having three clueless uncles to look after her. Not to mention that kids just seemed to get meaner down the generations and took pleasure in her tears as they teased her for being gawky and tall, for being ugly. During one of Brienne’s crying bouts, as she wailed about how she hated looking at herself in the mirror, Galladon intervened. As gently as he could, he told her that beauty on the outside meant nothing if the person were rotten inside. “A black heart poisons you, slowly, and then you’re left with a face you don’t recognize, a life you don’t know, and no one around you. That’s not what you have, Little Bree. Your heart is gold. That is beauty that matters and what the right people will see. And people who see it will love you and stand by you no matter what. You will never be alone.”

He could tell Jaime saw his niece’s loving heart. Oh, he knew, he was well aware of what people have said about Brienne, from her unfortunate looks to her awkward behaviour and he difficulty in relating to people. Now that she was in Tarth with the best-looking man in WEsteros, the rumor mill would go on overdrive. It was either people couldn’t believe she landed a man so handsome and a Lannister at that, or come up with some vicious and evil and bring her to tears. Something told Galladon that when that happened, Jaime would be first in line to deliver well-deserved pain to the person who dared hurt Brienne. 

And Galladon would be right at his side. 

While Galladon had slipped to his own, quiet thoughts, Endrew continued to stare off into the space where Brienne had disappeared with her man. Only Brienne would throw herself right into the path of Selwyn Tarth. Selwyn was the eldest among them, and was used to delivering orders and having them followed. His younger brothers were loyal to him, fortunately, despite his dictatorial tendencies. But only Brienne had ever dared tell Selwyn no. It was touching that some of her mother, who died giving birth to her, lived on in. Brienne’s mother was the only person to tell Selwyn no and force him to rethink about himself.

He remembered Brienne at seven years old, running after Selwyn’s car as he drove away to another tour of duty.   
“No! No! Daddy!” She shouted after him. Selwyn pulled over and hugged her and told her firmly that he had a job to do—protect her. By going away he was protecting her.

“But why can Uncles Gal, Endrew and Dunk stay with me and protect me and you can’t? Why does your job take you away?”  
Selwyn wasn’t able to answer that. Endrew was given the unpleasant task of tearing her away, screaming and kicking, while Selwyn returned to the car.

A year before she started high school, her uncles sat her down at the kitchen and broke the news to her: Selwyn wanted to send her to boarding school. Vale Prep.

Brienne frowned. “Vale Prep! That’s so far away! Why does he want to take me away from here?”

Galladon looked at his brothers and told her, in the most tactful way possible, that her father believed she would benefit and learn more being surrounded with people her age or closer. Selwyn couldn’t understand why Brienne was friendless, why she preferred books over people. He didn’t tell her that. After giving her his sanitized explanation, Brienne shook her head vehemently.  
“A new school in a place I don’t know, with new people who will just deliver the same old insults. How is that better than here? I’m an A student. I like my room. And, Uncle Endrew, you taught me how to make waffles without burning them. Uncle Gal, you taught me how to drive though it’s years before it’s legal for me to get behind the wheel. Uncle Dunk, you taught me more about literature than school has taught me. I don’t understand. I must speak to Dad.”

Speak to him she did. She stayed.

There were times when Selwyn got his way, however. Such as that one formal military event where he forced Brienne to be the date of a cadet officer, a son of a bitch named Humphrey Wagstaff. Endrew almost died when a cab pulled up at Evenfall Hall and out came Brienne barefoot, her face splotchy with tears, the strap of her pink dress torn. She refused to tell him what happened until he told her he was going to call Selwyn. Brienne broke down then.

Wagstaff had bet going on with other officers that he’d get in the pants of their general’s ugly daughter. “That’s why he was nice to me, that’s why he danced with me,” Brienne sobbed in her knees. “Then. . .then one of the officers, Bryen Caron, told me what Humphrey was going to do. He was going to drug my drink. . .I confronted him and he got mad.”

Endrew looked at the state of her dress. Brienne shrugged. “I punched him. As soon as I knocked him out, I ran out. I couldn’t stand to be there and around those . . .assholes. Don’t tell Dad, Uncle Drew, please? I’d. . .I’d hate to cause trouble and besides, Humphrey’s nose is broken. That’s enough.”

For Brienne, it was. Endrew alerted his brothers. Duncan, who did the occasional hacking job, uploaded pornographic materials on Humphrey Wagstaff’s computer, alerted the right officials at the base and got him kicked out for conduct unbecoming of an officer.   
Three of the Tarth brothers pretty much walked the straight line: Selwyn, with his successful military career, Galladon, with his scuba diving rental and instruction business, Endrew, who owned and motorbike rental shop. Duncan was a bit of an oddball, to say the least.  
He went to art school, rather than college, something that Selwyn disapproved of still. In his early twenties, he was one of Westeros’ rising young artists. He was on a trajectory. 

Then, Selwyn’s wife died. Without asking them, Galladon and Endrew swore to care and protect baby Brienne in his absence. Their lives were in Tarth, and neither brother was interested in having a wife or children of their own. They didn’t bother asking Duncan, though he was aware of the situation. One day, he just showed up on their doorstep, with his painting equipment, vowing to help care for the baby. Duncan never returned to Westeros, but the works he had left there as a young man had been rediscovered in recent years. The art world as well as the press had all but stormed Evenfall Hall from the sky, desperate for news from him. Duncan never entertained any of them, and because it had been years since a photo of him had been snapped and made public, he had some anonymity in spite of his Tarth features. This should be the end of his story.

But at some point, during his time in Westeros, Duncan picked up some skills. Skills none of his brothers would rather know about. But he was the one he put up their surveillance and security system, he was the one who had a dossier on every employee they had in Evenfall and outside of it. Information, Duncan said, was an underrated currency. Gold mines dried out but knowledge and wanting a share of it would always be around. 

Duncan, who anticipated the world would just get crueller to his niece, decided she needed to acquire a specific skill set. He couldn’t train her in wits, he wasn’t that good with words in the first place, but he knew how she could arm herself should people think her apparent ugliness had no place in the world. “People have killed for much less,” he told her as they sparred, first with fists, where he taught her to throw a punch with all her might and believe in her own strength. Then it was training with the bo, some knife tricks, and Brienne’s favorite—fencing. These proved invaluable during that time a burglar broke into Evenfall and walked right into Brienne, who had gone to the kitchen to get herself a midnight snack of fruit and cheese. The burglar, thinking that she was only a girl despite being six feet tall, because of her pajamas with yellow singing ducks, thought to threaten her with a knife. Brienne turned swiftly, and smacked him on the head with her plate of food, raining grapes, slices of pear and cubes of brie and camembert. She grabbed his arm that held the knife and twisted it behind him while her other arm locked around his throat in a death grip. Then she screamed for help, wincing as the burglar tried to get away by propelling himself back and slamming her against the wall. Galladon, Endrew and Duncan came running out of their rooms. Galladon fainted when he saw the scene before him, Endrew was too shocked to move and Duncan, his gun already pointed, grinned. 

The burglar had bypassed the system Duncan had set up and was going to steal one of his paintings, according the police. Duncan upgraded the protection around the house and interrogated the servants, a bloodhound in search of a leak. The burglar would have killed Brienne. His anger at his near-failure scared everyone, including his niece. When he discovered the source, the man was never seen in Tarth ever again. 

Brienne had never seen her uncle scary, he who was always soft-spoken, the few times he did speak. Still, a week after the break-in, she went to him and confessed, “Uncle Dunk, I’m grateful for what you taught me. But. . .I’m uncomfortable you keep a gun in the house.”

“That’s to protect us, Little Brienne,” he told her. “If you know how to use it, and I can teach you, maybe—“

Brienne shook her head. “No, Uncle. I don’t like guns. I’m thankful—if I didn’t know how to fight who knows what could have happened. But. . .you never know, Uncle Dunk. Guns are too fast, they’re small things but they’re fast and dangerous and I just don’t like the idea that you have one. In here.”

Duncan didn’t have the heart to tell her that he slept with a small one under his pillow, that his bedside drawer turned to reveal more and there were military-grade rifles secreted in a compartment in his room. Yet her wide blue eyes, so much like his own, and her trembling lip did him in. Loathed as he was, he could not say no to her. And she was right. So even when he was perfectly within reason to keep his guns close, after their talk, he removed them from his room. 

The men of Tarth were known for being hard, and they had a long history of men and women who believed in honor and integrity, and willingly died protecting these virtues. Brienne’s uncles were of the same ilk, uncompromising to the point of unreasonable when it came to doing what was right. Yet, when Brienne came into their lives, they were suddenly marshmallows, and happily so, because she was a lovely little girl who always asked nicely. How could you say no?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is up with Uncle Duncan, you think? 
> 
> Jaime is a cub!


	5. In My Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne's room, a closed door and privacy.  
> You do the math.  
> POV shifts back and forth.

The primary aim of Evenfall Hall’s interior décor was comfort. Jaime had never seen so many plush chairs and sofas in his entire look, all looking soft and very inviting. The décor was a mix of elegant old world without the dark, forbidding furniture, with a playful splash of rugged modernity. Thus, he found log tables and benches side by side with antique chairs with curving spines and carved, curlicues at the edge of their arms, a fat, overstuffed sofas done in cream or soft yellows, loveseats splashed with crescent moons. He saw breathtaking paintings of the Isle of Tarth on the wall, done in such a way the waters seemed to move in the canvas. There were also colored and black-and-white photos scattered artfully on many flat surfaces but when he saw an entire wall of photos, he tugged Brienne back.

“Hold on. Tell me about this,” he told her, nodding at the display before them. 

Brienne stood beside him, her hand clasped in his. “Oh. Um, that’s me when I started walking,” she said, pointing to a photo of a blond child who was clearly laughing in the photo as she held out her arms to her sides. Two men, one whom Jaime thought was Uncle Gal, were laughing behind her. 

“Your father took the photo?”

She shook her head. “He was in Qarth. Remember the war?”

He did. He had been between eleven or twelve years old, then. 

“That’s Uncle Gal and Uncle Drew,” she told him. “Uncle Endrew but I’ve always called him Drew. Uncle Dunk—er, Uncle Duncan took the photo.”  
“Where are these two uncles of yours? Avoiding me?” Though Jaime’s voice was light, Brienne knew he was a little worried about getting a treatment similar to Selwyn’s from them.

“I’m sorry about by Dad. He’s not like that, believe me. And no, Uncle Drew and Dunk aren’t avoiding you. They’re at work. But to this day, I still can’t tell you exactly what Uncle Dunk does. I really don’t know. Even his brothers don’t.”

“Sounds intriguing. Tell me more about these photos.” Jaime leaned forward and grinned. “You’re naked here, Brienne.”

“I hope you’re not ogling.”

“Of course not. You are cute. Look at that belly button! And that round belly!”

“Shut up, Jaime.”

“Your legs have always been long.”

“I’m warning you.”

“Kiss me or curse me, Brienne, but don’t ruin my fun. Our daughters better have your legs. For kicking and outrunning worthless admirers.”

The moment Jaime said those words, he bit his lip. Brienne pretended not to notice and pointed at another photo. “That’s my mom.”

She didn’t like the wall, not because of the embarrassing photos of her on display but because of that one photo of Arianne Tarth. 

It was a color photo. Her hair was long and blond, her eyes a soft, pale gray. Her skin was pale and she was heavily-freckled. Brienne looked nothing like her, Jaime discovered, except for the moonlight skin and freckles. 

Arianne Tarth was standing in front of Evenfall Hall. She had her head tilted down to the side and wore a shy, close-lipped smile. She was wearing a blue dress that emphasized her storm eyes. She stood with her left ankle crossed over her right. Now that, Brienne got from her, Jaime thought, remembering that when standing and deep in thought, Brienne tend to stand the same way, left ankle crossed over right. She tilted her head too.  
Selwyn didn’t like talking about Arianne. When she asked her Uncle Gal why, Uncle Gal told her that Selwyn loved her a lot, and still. “She brought light with her, and he will never stop missing it. For some people, they have another love after one dies. Your father’s decided it’s only her forever. She won’t like it—I knew her, she’d have him move on and find his second happiness—but that’s how stubborn and pig-headed your dad is.”  
She remembered being uncomfortable with the idea of her father finding another. Later, when she was much older, she would wish the same for him. 

“Are you okay?” Jaime asked, noticing she had lingered at Arianne’s photo.

She nodded. He didn’t prod her for more. It must hurt a lot more to have lost somebody before knowing her, no matter how little.

Brienne cleared her throat. “Let’s go. I’ll take you to my room. I mean, our room.”

A wide staircase that angled to the right every ten steps brought them to the third floor. Brienne explained that the first floor was for parties and guests—a public area. The second floor housed the library, her father’s study, and the rooms of her uncles Endrew and Duncan, the family room. Brienne’s room was at the third floor, which was also where Selwyn and Uncle Gal kept their rooms. 

“Look here,” Brienne led him to a tall, arched window near the stairs. A softly-cushioned bench was below it. “I used to stared out into the sea when I was a child, on this spot,” she told him as she opened the window. 

A strong gust of wind flew in, ruffling their hair and rattling some of the knick-knacks on the furniture but that was it. Jaime took a deep breath. Salty sea breeze was always refreshing. 

He stood beside her and she saw his eyes soften at the view. It looked out into the sea. Brienne closed her eyes and inhaled. “Gods, I missed that.”

“How can you leave this for Westeros?” Jaime asked, still taking deep breaths. “You’re right. Gods. This is wonderful.”

“I was happy at home but outside, not so much. I couldn’t breathe. Plus, I wasn’t sure if the few people who were nice to me were so because they liked me or because I’m a Tarth. We’re not rich like Lannisters but it’s a little hard to be yourself in a place named after your family.”

“Well, I’m glad you left.” Jaime told her, his arms going around her waist. “Else you’d remain a helpless maiden waiting for her knight to rescue her.”

Sapphire eyes flashed. “I will never need rescuing.”

“No you won’t, forgive me” he agreed. “But I do. How about that? I’m the helpless maiden and you’re my knight.”

She shook her head. “You will never be helpless, Jaime.”

She declared it with a confidence that made him weak-kneed. She believed in him so much. Jaime brushed his lips against hers then murmured, “Where’s your chamber, milady? Take me there so I may ravish you.”

“I’m not a lady,” she whispered, kissing him back.

“Alright. Take me there nevertheless so _you_ can ravish me.” 

And because they were alone, Jaime pressed her hand to his cock, which was once again aching and full. Brienne laughed and he pulled her close, pressing his face against her warm cheek.

“Gods, Jaime, does that ever go away?”

“When you’re around? Of course not.”

“I’ve never made out with a boy in my room before.”

He grinned. “I like that. Let’s neck and pretend we’re teenagers.” 

“Have you brought a girl to your room when you were a teenager and made out?”

“I went to boarding school. Girls weren’t allowed in the boys’ quarters.”

Brienne giggled. “So never? When you were a teenager? What about college?”

“Girls were bringing me to their rooms to make out with me.”

She should be jealous but didn’t see the point. That was Jaime’s past and a part of the man he was now. She imagined him in college, the best-looking guy on campus and legions of females panting after him, wanting to lock him up in their rooms and have their way with him. 

“You never brought a girl to your room?”

“Can I be honest?”

“Of course. Always.”

Jaime looked in her eyes. “Until you, never.”

She stared at him, stunned. _“Jaime.”_

“I’m not saying I lived like a monk before you. There were. . .women. But I never brought home anyone. My apartment was mine and unless it was serious, no woman set foot.”

“You didn’t bring me home,” Brienne reminded him. “You invited me to dinner then mauled me in the kitchen and fed me much, much later.”

They would always remember that night. He smiled and said, “You’re the first woman I’ve ever invited.” _And the last,_ he added to himself.

“What about you? Nobody in high school?” 

“Please. There was someone in college but. . .well, I was much different back then. I wasn’t comfortable kissing and being touched and touching.” 

Jaime brought her hand to his lips. Brienne’s heart raced as he kissed each finger. “Just one?” he asked.

She bit her lip. “Another one. But it was in his room. Then this boy. . .the first one. . .we got back together when I started grad school. I didn’t want to but he was so persuasive and I thought, hey, why not give this guy a chance. It didn’t end well.” 

When Jaime frowned she quickly told him, “Before you go hunting him down, you should know that Renly took care of him.”

Something flickered in Jaime’s memory. He remembered a night a few months ago, and a bartender named Hot Pie giving him Brienne’s wrong name and telling him about one of her friends punching her ex-boyfriend.

“I’d send Renly a good bottle of Dornish red but he might take it as an insult. Maybe I'll buy shares of his vineyard.” 

“I thought I was going to ravish you. Why are we standing here talking?”

Jaime laughed and let her pull him behind her to the end of the hallway. Brienne looked at him before pushing the door open. “Here goes.”  
Brienne’s room, similar to Jaime’s in Casterly Rock, was done in navy and soft creams. But where Jaime’s furniture were elegant pieces mixed with antiques, Brienne’s was all modern and casual.

The bed was king-sized, with a heavy, wooden headboard ideal for leaning against when reading through the night. It was draped in soft, white sheets that looked comfortable and worn in. By the window was a floor-to-ceiling shelf of books crammed tight. Jaime smiled at the small shelf filled with trophies and medals.

It was a room that had seen its occupant grow from a little girl into a woman. On an antique, roll-top desk was a papier mache frame that held a photo of a crescent moon. It was clearly made by clumsy little hands. There was a gray, knitted shawl thrown over a long divan, and Jaime recognized the shawl from one of Brienne’s photos in her apartment. In the photo, it was draped on her shoulders and she happened to face the camera just as the photo was taken. She didn’t look surprised but it was clear she hadn’t expected a photo would be taken either. She looked about fourteen there.

A wide, soft window seat invited one to sit and look out. Jaime this time pulled Brienne behind him as he went to it. He saw the forests surrounding the property and a little past it, the sapphire waters of Tarth. 

“Tonight, I’ll dream of swimming in your eyes,” he told her, smiling softly at her.

“Jaime, I’m so happy you’re with me,” she admitted. 

"Come here." 

She blushed when he reached up and undid the first button of her shirt.

“Me too, Brienne. I’m glad you finally brought me here. I haven’t been subtle, if you remember,” Jaime told her, moving down her shirt, speaking to her as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. 

“We’re only supposed to get sweaters,” she told him as her shirt fell to the floor. The sun fell on her, making her eyes look otherworldly. Alien. “And necking doesn’t involve getting naked.”

She caught her breath when he brushed his calloused fingertips on her nipples. They swelled, pointing towards him as he plucked them gently before cupping them. He pressed his lips on her right shoulder, licking at the firm, toned muscle. "So strong," he murmured.

"Gods," she whispered. 

“How would you know how necking goes if you’ve never done it? We can make up our rules, can’t we?” Jaime asked her, still nibbling on her shoulder while steering her toward the bed. He sat at its foot and pulled her closer. 

Brienne watched as his head moved to her stomach, and a second later, she felt the warm, wet glide of his tongue around her belly button before it dipped at the indented skin. Despite her knees knocking together at the thrill of his sensual touch, she smiled and joked, “You were checking me out in that naked photo.”

“Nonsense,” he denied, his hands unbuttoning her shirts then pulling the zipper tab down. He breathed deeply as her shorts fell and her cunt came to view, pink and with damp, pale gold curls. “This is just a coincidence.” Another deep breath. "Fuck, _you smell so good._ " 

For a few minutes, soft, pitched gasps filled the room as hands travelled slowly on bare, moonlight skin. Jaime’s fingers dug in the firm flesh of her ass as he lowered his head to kiss her left inner thigh then the right, traced with his tongue the edge of the vee of her curls. “Brienne,” he whispered, looking up at her. His hands went to the lower lips of her cunt and Brienne whimpered, pushing against him.

“Gods, woman, _what you do to me,_ ” Jaime told her just before pressing his tongue to her swelling clit.

She gripped the hairs of his head as he alternated between sucking and licking her, all the while his fingers thrusting deep in her wet channel. Her legs were threatening to collapse but he had caged her legs between his, his other hand gripped her hip to keep her steady and upright. 

“No. The things _you_ do to me,” she wailed.

“If that’s a quip it took too long,” he teased her before his eyes darkened. “ _Come,_ Brienne. Come hard.”

He curled his fingers in her, tightly, repeatedly. Brienne groaned out his name as she came, thrusting against him, standing on her tiptoes because the force of her orgasm seemed to want to take her off the ground. Jaime watched, feeling himself harden even more in his shorts at her pupils blown, the black pools overtaking the blue, the beautiful red flush that warmed her skin from forehead to her breasts. He kept his fingers in her, pumping hard and fast, only slowing down when her hips began to still. 

“Jaime,” Brienne breathed, collapsing against him. He smiled against her stomach and helped her lay on her back.

Brienne watched as Jaime freed himself from his clothes, the entire time his eyes glittering like hard, emerald gems as they stared at her. Again, she was amazed that someone could want her so much, this much. His face was tight with lust, yet there was a softness in his gaze too that she knew to be love. She started to prop herself up on her elbows but he shook his head, wildly.

“No, Brienne. As you are. _Please,_ ” he pleaded, his voice guttural.

So she sank back and that was when he threw himself at her, like a lion catching his prey.

Of course he went for her throat, nibbling and licking it. She pulled his hands to her breasts, jumping at the sudden charge that went from his fingertips to her nipples—Jaime was stunned too and stopped briefly. Then, together, they mashed their mouths to each other’s.  
Brienne made a mewling sound of protest when Jaime dragged his mouth away and he slithered down her body, sleek and elegant, so sure. She thrust her breasts at him, biting her lip as he cupped them and licked one nipple and the other then back. By now, her entire body was the color of a darkening rose, pink crossing to red. Jaime couldn’t believe that she could blush like this, that she could give herself to him like this. He had to catch his breath to take it all in before he proceeded to kiss her down her to her left leg. He hooked it on his shoulder and kissed the soft skin behind her knee. 

It was like wildfire had suddenly lashed her. “ _Jaime,_ ” she gasped.

He grinned. “Really? Here?”

“I want you,” she pleaded. “Jaime, please, I want. . .I want to. . .it’s my turn. _It’s my turn._ ”

Knowing what she meant, he fell on his back on the bed and pulled her on top. “There. I’m yours.”  
Brienne quickly got to work, tonguing his nipples, kissing the ridges of his muscled abs. Jaime screwed his eyes shut as her shy but eager kisses and caresses fell on his body. She had no idea what she did to him, or what she could do and he was glad she’d never know. Seven hells, if she did he’d _die._ A happy death but he’d die. No way.

Still, he wasn’t sure if the pleasure he felt coursing through his boy was the sight of her returning to him exactly what he gave her or knowing she did it because she wanted to or he took pleasure in her pleasure. He threaded his fingers through her hair as she wrapped her lips around the helmet tip of his cock.

“Brienne,” he gasped, his eyes flying open. 

He pulled her up, kissing her on the mouth, tasting himself in her tongue. His huge hands cupped her face while she continued stroking his cock. She could squeeze him harder, pull his testicles a little, but inexpert as her touch, it was so fucking perfect. As with everything about her. _Perfect, perfect, perfect._

He helped her position herself on top of him, pushing her legs wide apart. He watched as she rubbed his cock alongside her slit, her honey wetting the thick, hard column of skin. Then she was lowering herself, taking him in.

“ _Please_ ,” the word was torn out of him. 

His eyes glazed over as Brienne rocked up and down, going fast when he wanted her to slow down, slowing down when he wished she’d go fast. Yet he was far from frustrated, he was so fucking tuned on not knowing what to expect. That was life with Brienne Tarth. He never knew, he had _ceased_ to know anything save for his love for this sapphire-eyed sexy witch with endless legs who enticed and intrigued him with everything she did. 

Brienne held on to him, her hands drifting to his chest then back to his shoulders to hold him tight but he squeeze of his arms around her waist told her she need not worry, he wouldn’t let her fall, he was going to help her finish this. She couldn’t _not_ look at him then, at his parted lips, the violent gusts of air from his nose, she couldn’t _not_ look in his eyes. When she did, his love for her seemed to flare out of his eyeballs, stunning her, snatching the very air from her lungs. 

How many times, how many times had he told her he loved her? She had lost count. Each time she believed. Now, she knew, _she knew_ from the deepest pit of her soul that Jaime Lannister loved her. _He loved her._ He loved her and he wasn’t going to stop her from doing what she wanted, he’d help her, he would take over when she told him, when she let him. Just like now. Now with his arms on her waist, locking her, letting her hands roam to his chest, to her clit, to his face.

Their cries rose over the waves crashing against the rocks.


	6. Something Wonderful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne shows Jaime something that may be proof of their shared past.  
> *awooo

Brienne was still relishing the afterglow of their lovemaking when Jaime surprised her by kissing her loudly on the forehead and jumping off the bed. She frowned as he reached for his shorts on the floor and stepped in them.

She sat up, unaware that the mess of her hair looked like she’d stuck her fingers in an electrical socket. But she was still blushing, her eyes were bright pools that had stolen all light, it seemed to Jaime, and she was biting her swollen lip. He grinned at her as he tossed her shirt to her. She caught it and set it down next to her.

“Get dressed. Look at the sun! It’s too beautiful outside to stay in.”

“That’s my line. If I were you, hmm, what would I say? I know.” Brienne kicked the blanket to her feet and rose to her knees. Her breasts and stomach and her inner thighs were red from getting raked by his beard. Their come was still drying between her thighs. “If I were you, I’d say fuck me, tomorrow will be another beautiful day.” 

Jaime looked like a hungry man as he stared at her but he said, “You’re always telling me I’m lazy.”

“We’re on vacation! Number one rule: be lazy!”

"Okay, I want my girlfriend back. Who the fuck are you?"

" _You_ are not my boyfriend." 

“We’ve fucked twice already and it’s what. . .Brienne, it hasn’t been two hours since we arrived. The rate we’re going, we’re going to spend the entire time fucking. You know I’d live in your cunt if I could but you brought me here to introduce to your family. How’s it going to look if all I did was fuck you?” He lowered his wrist that held his watch then found his shirt. He smirked when he caught Brienne looking dazzled as his arm muscles flexed pushing them into the sleeves. When she realized he’d noticed, crimson flared fast across her face. 

Warmer now, Brienne turned away, presenting Jaime her long, graceful back as she started putting on her shirt. “I thought Lannisters can’t be bothered with what other people think.”

“Not if they’re people you care for. Come on, Tarth. Get your ass off the bed.” He commanded. 

She found her shorts but didn’t bother with her panties this time. Jaime grinned as the firm globes of her ass disappeared under her shorts. Then she opened her closet and retrieved two sweaters, one blue and one black. “We’d better put them on. It’s going to get cold in a while,” she told him. “Blue or black?”

“Black. Thank you.” Jaime took it and slipped it on. They were almost the same size, though the shoulders were a little loose but it would keep him warm. Also, there was a faint trace of vanilla. He sniffed appreciatively.

“Oh, it just hit me. I can take you to our museum.”

“You have a museum? Wow, that’s something Casterly Rock doesn’t have.” His eyes warmed as they regarded her. “Among other things.”

“My Uncle Duncan designed it. There’s this sword I want to show you.” Brienne told him as she slipped her arms through the sleeves of her sweater. “There’s an interesting story as to how it came to our family. It’s not solid evidence. Pure speculation based on what little information could be gleaned from history.”

“Sword? Have I mentioned that we have this Valyrian steel sword lost for centuries until it was recovered early in the twentieth century?” Jaime asked, following her out of her room. “Brightroar is its name.”

“You know, I’ve always meant to ask Tyrion but couldn’t. I certainly don’t want to be one those making suggestions and going about as if I know his field better. He’s a chemist, right? He was never interested in rediscovering the process for replicating Valyrian steel?” Brienne asked as they went down the stairs side by side.

“Weapons never interested him. It would please father if he were. He’s been hoping Tyrion would take over our arms and weapons division in the company.” 

Brienne shuddered. “I know people have the right to bear arms but I’ve never been comfortable with guns. But I like swords and knives. Is that weird?”

Just before she opened the front door, Jaime put a hand on her shoulder. He looked surprised and glad. “Me too. How come you’ve never mentioned this before?”

“Never came up, that’s all.”

“Allow me, milady,” Jaime pulled her hand away from the doorknob.

“Told you I’m not a lady.”

“No, you certainly are not. _Thank the gods._ ” He winked at her and she cursed the blush that bloomed bright and eager on her cheeks. “Where’s this museum?”

“Just around the back. There’s a way to it from inside the house but you can’t exactly be trusted with dark corners that see little foot traffic,” Brienne said, but she was blushing as she did so. “And I thought to show you more of the grounds.”

She led him out of the front door and turned to the left, where they came from earlier upon arrival at Evenfall Hall. As they walked, just as a powerful wind came from the sea. Jaime shielded his eyes from its force, squinting. Brienne huddled into her sweater but as she was wearing only shorts, the cooling temperature brought an outbreak of goosebumps down her legs. 

With the wind still whipping at their hair and their clothes, she pointed out other areas. There was a low building that used to be the armory but was now the gym. She told him that her father and Uncle Dunk used it, and it was here when Uncle Dunk taught her fencing and other ways to fight. That got Jaime excited. He had always wanted to learn but Tywin thought it pointless to play-fight and to do it behind a mask. Then she brought him to the spot where the photo of her taking her first steps was shot. She pointed him to a tree she used to climb.

Jaime whistled. “You never fell? _That's high._ ”

“It’s grown higher. And no, I didn’t.” Brienne suddenly laughed. “Oh, one time, so Uncle Gal and Uncle Drew couldn’t quite understand how a little girl like me—um, I was around ten then. I was already five-foot-eight. Anyway, they couldn’t understand how I could climb it because it’s so fucking high. So they had this bet that they could climb higher than me. Silliness, I know. Uncle Gal, once he reached the first few limbs, felt himself growing faint and so jumped down—and broke his ankle. Uncle Drew climbed next, looking proud and confident. _My other idiot uncle_ suddenly panicked and got stuck. I had to get him and coax him to climb down every step of the way. Then Uncle Dunk came, found Uncle Gal in pain and me pulling Uncle Drew, who was already hyperventilating. He didn’t get mad but we all got a lecture that day. That was probably the longest he talked.”

“Well, it couldn’t be _that_ easy for a little girl,” Jaime mused, still looking up. “Should be easier now. You’re taller. I’m taller.”

Brienne looked skyward then at him. “I am not going to come get you if you get stuck, Jaime Lannister. I’ll call the fire department and make sure the press find out about the lion of Lannister too scaredy-cat to get down.”

“Who says I’ll get stuck? You have so little faith.”

“What you call `little faith’ I call sense.”

“You’re just worried I’ll climb higher than you.”

“I’m not going to get in this discussion, Jaime.”

“Hah! Because _you_ know _I_ can do it!”

“No, because I know something will happen and you’ll break something and Tywin Lannister will murder me. Maybe you really are the maiden. You’re like glass. You’re precious cargo. So much for being a ferocious lion.”

He smiled and suddenly pulled her to his chest. Brienne blushed as he planted his hands on her ass and squeezed. "I'm glad you're not made of glass."

“Keep your hands up where I can see them, Lannister,” she told him, grabbing them and putting them on her waist.

“I’m your precious cargo. As you’re mine. But yes, I do admit that between us, I’m the delicate one. You have to take good care of me, Brienne.”

“Don’t I?”

He pretended to mull it over. “I’d say you’re doing a satisfactory job so far.”

“Just satisfactory?”

“Don’t worry. You’ll have plenty of chances to prove yourself.”

“ _To prove myself,_ ” Brienne said in disbelief. Then she saw Jaime biting his lip to keep from laughing. Her scowl could end a lesser man on the spot. She punched him on the shoulder and Jaime yelped. “Why, why do you enjoy making fun of me? Why must you torture me?”

“Because that’s how we are. I tease you and annoy you and you call me an idiot. And you make it so much pleasurable for me.” Now she was looking at him the way Selwyn Tarth did earlier. He took her hand, kissed her knuckles and said, “Come, show me this sword.” 

“Now, Jaime,” she told him a moment later as they continued down a path curved from the main one they were just one. “There’s no one there but us. I trust you won’t get any ideas.”

“Sorry, can’t swear to you on that. I will have many, all guaranteed to keep you blushing all day.” He threw her a wink and playfully bumped her shoulder. Despite her stern instructions, she remained flushed from his teasing earlier. He tucked a finger under her chin and prompted her to turn to him. “You were born to blush, weren’t you?” 

“It’s never been a problem until you,” Brienne answered.

Jaime raised an eyebrow. “Oh, like you’ve never caused me problems. Until you, I never had to deal with frequent boners. Really, Brienne. But maybe that’s our thing,” he continued, putting an arm around her shoulders and they continued walking together, “you’re cursed to be a sexy tomato color when with me. Or is it Lannister red?”

“I dare you to tell Tywin you think your Lannister red is a sexy tomato shade.”

“Challenge accepted. Well? Is this it?”

Jaime stopped before a small, gray, one-storey building. It looked more like a tool shed than a repository of family heirlooms. He still liked it.

“Yep, that’s it,” Brienne said, walking past him. Only then did he notice that the door had a design consisting of tiny marble tiles, a mosaic designed to make up a field quartered in rose and azure. Yellow suns rested in the rose while white crescent moons lay in the azure were on each quadrant.

“Our house blazon,” Brienne explained, flipping a compartment open and punching in a code. 

“Isn’t it a little dangerous to have that out in the open?” He gestured loosely with his hand at the box she was typing on. 

“It requires three codes before you can view the sword. Uncle Dunk set it up like that. There’s also a retinal scan.” Brienne stood back as the door slid open, followed by a dull, blaring sound. 

Jaime followed her as she entered. She went to another compartment, flipped it open and punched another series of codes. The alarm stopped and another door slid open, this time to her right. As soon as she stepped in, another set of alarms went off. 

Brienne entered the last code before leaning down and pressing her face to a small screen. Done, she looked behind her. Jaime still stood by the first door. “Let’s go. No laser fields will cut you off, I promise.”

“ _You have laser fields?_ ”

“I’d bet Tywin has a landmine protecting his assets and gold at the Iron Bank.”

“Also starved, vicious lions,” Jaime rejoined, going in. 

Brienne stood at the center of the room, her arms crossed and looking at something in front. Jaime followed her gaze and saw a long glass case surrounding the most magnificent sword he had ever seen.

It was clearly old. There were scratches on its long, but still sharp-looking blade. In the halo of light provided by overhead lamps, the blade gleamed red then black, probably depending on where you were looking from. Its pommel was a gleaming, golden lion’s head with red eye. A ruby? Jaime noticed that one of the eyes was missing. Next to it was its scabbard, also bright, shiny gold. Carved on it were alternating rows of small lion’s heads and rubies. It was an impressive weapon, one that clearly saw many battles. The sword of a knight, Jaime thought, unable to look away.

“When Daenerys Storm-Born retook the Iron Throne with her dragons, there was great devastation all around. Monuments and castles burned to the ground. Houses, families gone. Nearly nothing was left in the end, what also with the harshest, longest winter in history. The ocean protected Tarth, but only for a short while. After her success with the throne, Daenerys eradicated all history that began after her father Aerys and before her.”

The Great Purge, Jaime remembered. He learned it from history class. There was very little information extant from the period. It saddened him that the names of the valiant Kingsguards during this time were stripped from the White Book. Thus the twenty-year gap in the history of the Kingsguards, before they were replaced by Daenerys’ Queensguards. 

The Lannisters barely survived the Purge. Once the richest family in Westeros, their once-vast fortune declined quickly beginning in the War of the Five Kings. Machinations and betrayals blatantly committed by members of his family put them on top of the Queen’s shit list. 

“We had the age of the sword assessed. We know it’s Valyrian steel, the gold comes from the mines of Casterly Rock,” Brienne was looking at Jaime as she spoke, “that its age is actually older because it was reforged from another sword. What, we don’t know. We also know it came from around the time of that war.”

“Casterly Rock,” Jaime looked back at her. “The old Casterly Rock?”

The current Casterly Rock was in another location but still in Lannisport. The old Casterly Rock had gold mines under it. 

Brienne nodded. 

“Reforged,” Jaime racked his head for missing swords in Westeros history. There were many. Too many. “I wonder why that first sword was reforged.”

“Interesting about the gold, though. And the lions.”

“It sure is. This is amazing, Brienne. I never knew about this. I don’t think anyone in my family knows of this.” Jaime peered closer. “It has to have come from my family. The only other house that had a lion as its sigil was House Reyne but they were extinct a long time before the Lannisters came into the power that became their undoing.”

“Tarths were not sworn nor vassals of House Lannister. At least, there’s no proof. Or if they were, there’s no proof, either. But the sword has to be from someone of that house, given to my ancestor Brienne of Tarth. She was Queensguard to Daenerys. Brienne died of old age. By then she was Lord Commander.”

Jaime looked back at the sword as he listened to Brienne. “She must be above all.”

“Daenerys?”

“No. Brienne of Tarth. Valyrian steel is rare. It’s not something you just give away. Maybe Daenerys had the sword reforged from another sword? Maybe one of those extinct families. House Greyjoy? House Frey?”

“But the gold? And Valyrian steel was already rare before that time.”

“From what I know, a little time before she retook Westeros, the mines had already dried out. They were gone by the time she arrived in King’s Landing. Then that component of the sword couldn’t have come from her, certainly not a suggestion of hers. You know the Great Purge happened because she wanted all responsible behind what had happened to her family forgotten. House Lannister held a lot puppet strings. That, unfortunately, I’m well aware of.”

“A Lannister must have given it to her. Maybe a different kind of Lannister.”

He looked at her and nodded. “Most likely. And had great respect for Brienne of Tarth.”

“It’s always frustrated me, not knowing this part of my family’s history.”

“But you know of Brienne of Tarth. It’s not a total loss, if you ask me. Do you know what she was like?”

“Very little. She swore to Daenerys her life and honor, and with it Tarth. The Tarths were not displaced or removed from history because of that.”

“Lannisters too. Or at least, the only one worthy to serve the Queen.” Jaime smiled. 

“Oh, yes, I forgot. Before Daenerys died, because she had no children, she named Tyrion the Wise as king. She never asked him but he renounced his Lannister name for Targaryen.”

“He’s still my favorite Lannister. Honor isn’t something we’re known for, I’m afraid. Tyrion the Wise was the only one.”

“For the longest time. He’s no longer alone.” 

Brienne’s eyes were soft, shimmering pools. In the light of the museum, she looked ethereal, with her straw blond hair and pale skin. That she was wearing a rumpled shirt and shorts did not diminish her effect on him. I could look at her forever, Jaime thought, and wondered if his feelings were obvious. She will always look at me like that. As if I’m someone better than I could hope to be.

“Queensguards weren’t also allowed to marry or inherit lands or titles. There’s no record of it but there’s a wild, really wild speculation to this day that Brienne of Tarth had a bastard before she became Daenerys’ protector. I know she was the sole heir of Tarth, and there’s no record of her marrying or having children—officially. But the isle has always been ours. I wonder what was done to make it so.” 

Jaime shrugged. “A cousin perhaps? Brothers? Other relatives?”

“Maybe. We will never know.”

“It boggles the mind that our families may have had a connection before,” Jaime admitted.

“Doesn’t it?” Brienne marvelled. 

“Something else I’m wondering about,” Jaime told her. “Astonishing eyes like yours and long legs appear to be dominant Tarth features. I couldn’t help but notice your eyes are like your father’s and Uncle Gal’s. And you’re all really tall.”

“I would think so. But the freckles are not Tarth.” She frowned at that. She hated her freckles.

He smiled. “No, they’re not. I wonder if your ancestor looked like you. I have a strong feeling she did.”

“Then I hope her service and dedication to the Queen cancels out all she lacked in looks, if she did.”

Brienne got hold of herself. She was a grown woman and smart, friends who liked her and were loyal to her, people respected her, she had love. She should get over her the fact she would never be found beautiful, that she’d never be pleasing to the eye, not to all. 

She jumped when Jaime was suddenly standing close to her, his hand on her cheek. She looked at him, this beautiful, golden man who loved her, who somehow found something about her to love. She who was scorned and hated for most of her life because of her appearance. _Ugly,_ too tall, too broad-shouldered, no curve in the waist, _unfeminine._

“I think,” Jaime began, lightly rubbing his hairy knuckles on her cheek, “that the Queen trusted her with her life because there’s something about Brienne of Tarth that made her believe so. She protected the Queen, so she was strong, brave, loyal. She became Lord Commander so she was clearly someone honourable, much respected, a woman who had all the virtues thought to be long lost among knights. Honor comes only from someone with a pure heart, Brienne. A heart like that can hardly be contained, and why should it? But good people see that. Good people realize that a person’s worth is not in her looks. Unfortunately, at any time in the history of the world, good people are outnumbered. It’s a privilege to recognize someone’s true beauty, and to know it is deeper than skin. I like the idea that your ancestor lives on in you. She must. She seems quite the remarkable person, despite the little we know of her. As for you, you are the best person I know.”

Brienne found herself glued to the ground. She couldn’t move, she could only look at him, once again stunned into silence by his heart throbbing with every word he spoke.

His thumb was gentle on her brow, her cheek. His fingers touched the bow of her lips, reminding her of that day in the hospital by the water fountain. The first time he touched her. When she felt her heart leap for the first time. 

“You’ve no idea how you move me, Brienne. It’s a gift.” 

“Jaime,” she whispered as he pulled her close, pressed her face to his so her nose rested on his cheek and his on hers. “You look at me when others don’t.” 

For once, he didn’t have a wiseass reply. Brienne allowed herself a small smile, thinking how this place used to be the sept, that in another time, maybe in the past, maybe it was romantic, wishful thinking, she saw herself swearing vows spoken from her heart, not the words of tradition, to a man such as Jaime. She imagined herself armore as the knight he had teased her about, _his_ knight, and he in a civillian garb of shirt and breeches, _her_ maiden. She heard her voice, soft, rough from forgotten wars and time erased, stumbling over most of the words but she fought on, determined to say all because he was looking at her that way. That was a privilege. To know that when he looked at her, he saw something wonderful. 

How she wished she had loved him longer than six months. Or eight. 

Or longer than this life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sword is Oathkeeper. It's never identified here, but yes, it is indee-di-o because I went with `histories being purged' so I had to keep it consistent. the alternating rows of lions and rubies are my own spin but it's not too far off from the original description of the sword. 
> 
> Did Ser Jaime and Brienne of Tarth, in my alternate vision/version of Past Westeros/AU, marry and have a child? Who knows? Even I can't answer that. That's why Brienne wonders at the end of the chapter if she was really looking into the past or just imagining herself with Jaime in the past. In Then Came You, Brienne's training/gaining scholarship in Westerosi Medieval Literature, so it can be her romantic side that thinks this, though she will deny she is romantic. 
> 
> Notice too that Jaime doesn't mention any other ancestor save for Tyrion? His family really got the short end of the stick there. And Tyrion giving up being a Lannister to be a Targaryen--that's my approach in working in the popular theory that he probably IS Targaryen. Going by Daenerys Storm-Born's rewriting of history and with Tyrion working with her, and maybe he had even been the one to make her do it, then that's ONE explanation why Jaime in this Modern A/U knows very little of his family's past in this part of history (zero twincest knowledge!) although he knows that Lannisters were so deplorable that they had to be written off, at least, those who had a direct hand in bringing chaos to Westeros. 
> 
> I'm thinking Jaime descends from a lesser branch of Lannisters--those who managed to escape from Daenerys' wrath and slowly rebuild. Hell hath no fury like a Dragon Queen scorned, after all. 
> 
> NEXT CHAPTER/S: The Uncles! Selwyn! And Jaime's got a secret!


	7. Hear Me Roar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime finally meets Duncan. Jaime teases Brienne, as usual.
> 
> Jaime gives someone a glimpse of the lion he is.

Neither Jaime nor Brienne spoke when they left the museum. Jaime stared off into space as Brienne punched in the security codes.  
They walked, shoulders brushing every now and then, also the backs of their hands but neither reached for the other. They did not know it yet but something had shifted in their relationship once they were done viewing the sword. Brienne glanced at Jaime’s profile, strong against the fading sunlight, the wind blowing at his mane. She looked away just as Jaime turned to look at her, taking in the tiny lines between her brows that told him she was thinking deeply. 

The next time their hands brushed, both automatically reached for the other’s.

“Oh gods,” Brienne suddenly said. “How remiss of me. I’ve never offered any refreshment since we got here.”

“But I’m not hungry. Or thirsty.”

“Still.” 

“If you remember, both of us were rather occupied. Twice.”

“It’s almost dark now,” Brienne looked up at the indigo stretching across the departing orange and gray expanse. “I bet Uncle Drew and Dunk are home. Would you like to meet them?”

“I’d be happy to. Lead the way.”

They were back inside the house, walking past the numerous couches and lounge chairs that promised softness and comfort. Jaime noticed that the glass doors have been open, allowing air to cool the space. As they approached the staircase, a tall, broad-shouldered blond with hair worn long to his shoulders. Hearing them approach, he turned, his body quickly stiffening in alertness. His eyes were sharp, though as blue as Brienne’s, they were the eyes of a hawk. His beard grew from the corners of his mouth. 

“Little Brienne,” he said, his voice just a little bit above a whisper. His shoulders relaxed.

Brienne grinned at Jaime and jogged to him. “Uncle Dunk!”

Uncle Gal had hugged Brienne to the point of almost breaking her ribs, Selwyn looked uncomfortable and stiff and was quick to put his daughter away from him. The smile that broke across Duncan’s face could have split it in half as he picked Brienne off the ground effortlessly. She giggled against his ear, her legs bending behind her. 

“I missed you, ” Uncle Duncan told her as he set her down. He held her hands.

Brienne was beaming. “I missed you too, Uncle. I have someone I’d like you to meet.”

As Brienne introduced Jaime to Duncan Tarth, Jaime braced himself for another look of disapproval. Selwyn wasn’t shy about making his displeasure known. Duncan was harder to read. His face was impassive despite the smile he wore, which was no longer as wide but polite. The two men shook hands. 

Jaime wondered if all the men in Brienne’s family was going to make him feel small their entire stay. Seven hells, they were giants. Big giants, at that. And like his brothers, Duncan was dressed casually yet Jaime, whose eye had been trained from an early age to recognize quality, recognied the little details on his t-shirt and jeans. He knew the t-shirt was old but the fabric wasn’t frayed or worn despite age and dozens of spins in the wash—expensive. Jeans for tall people were hard to find. Jeans for tall people who seemed to strap weights on their legs to bulk them up were even harder. The stitching was not mass-produced but actually tailored. He was barefoot. Brienne too liked to be barefoot at home. Jaime was glad his shoes covered how small his feet looked next to the Tarths.

“Good for Brienne to finally bring you home so we can get to know you,” Duncan said, continuing in his soft, careful manner of speaking. It reminded Jaime of Tywin’s knife-like enunciation but without the menace. “We’ve been begging her to visit more but she’s always busy with school and making us proud with her writings and presentations.”

“I’ve been wanting to meet her family for a while,” Jaime told him. “So I’m glad I wasn’t the only one who managed to convince her to visit.”

“Ah, I wasn’t aware of that. I don’t think we know of that,” Duncan looked at Brienne in question.

“We can’t just leave to visit, Uncle. I have school requirements and Jaime has work.” 

“But I own the company. I can take a vacation whenever,” Jaime reminded her.

“Yes, I heard about your advertising agency,” Duncan told him. “Your Valyrian beer ads are art.”

Pride softened Jaime’s features. “Thank you. That’s good to hear. Lots of good people worked to make that happen.”

“I liked how the beer was designed to be secondary but it actually isn’t, it’s the only colored item and in the lower corner. The rest black-and-white. Good layout. Not in-your-face. I haven’t seen ads like that in a long time.”

The pleasure was clear on Jaime’s face. “Thank you very much.”

“I was going to take Jaime to the kitchen for some refreshments,” Brienne said. “Why don’t you join us, Uncle Dunk?”

“But dinner will be served in an hour. You’ll ruin your appetite.”

Jaime shook his head. “I told her I was alright.”

“When a woman wants to take care of you, Jaime, you let her,” Duncan said. 

Brienne’s eyes widened when Jaime got _that_ look in his face. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Where are you going, Uncle?”

“I have to pick up some things from the store. Would you two like to come with me?” He asked them.

Jaime looked at Brienne who suddenly, for no reason at all, blushed hard. “Um. It’s okay. I’ve been showing Jaime around. Tomorrow I’ll take him on a drive.”

“The best way to see Tarth is on a motorbike.” Duncan told Jaime. He waved at them suddenly. “Bye then. I’ll see you at dinner.”

“Shoes!” Brienne called after him and Duncan threw her another wave without looking back.

“Well,” Jaime said when he was gone and they were still standing by the stairs. “That went well, I think.”

“I thought so too. So it’s Dad you’ll have to be patient with.”

“Don’t speak too soon. I haven’t met your Uncle Drew yet.”

They resumed their way to the kitchen. As they walked, Jaime asked, “Why did you turn red all of a sudden there? I wasn’t touching you.”  
“I just remembered. . .uh, I can’t be going around without. . .” Brienne’s voice suddenly dropped in a whisper. “I don’t have underwear on.”  
He grinned. “I know.”

“Of course you like that,” Brienne growled. “I’m not. . .I’m not comfortable.”

“Why didn’t you put it back on?”

“You stepped on it.”

“So go put one on.”

“Will you be okay by yourself for a few minutes?” Brienne asked him, suddenly concerned. 

“I’m sure I can find the kitchen on my own. Don’t worry about me.”

She didn’t look like she believed him. He rolled his eyes. She relented, “If you say so.”

She turned to go but Jaime suddenly grabbed her by the arm and turned her to him. He put his face close to hers and whispered seriously, “You’re wet aren’t you?”

“Jaime!” She shook him off. Then slammed her palm on his chest. Hard. 

“Ow! _Brienne!”_

“Serves you right.”

“You _are_ wet,” he declared, rubbing his chest. He was grinning like a cat who got the cream. 

“It’s all the rubbing and the friction. Not because. . .unlike you, _I_ can control myself.” She threw her shoulders back and stuck her chin out defiantly. She didn’t quite pull it off but he thought she looked damn cute.

“I’m sure.”

He glanced around them, spied a spot under the stairs. Without warning, grabbed her. He had her under the stairs, between a wall and his body, his lips teasing and bold on her mouth before Brienne could protest. It was so unfair, she thought as her body pressed to him, seeking his warmth, his body. She threw her arms around his neck. His breath hitched against her mouth.

Then she surprised him by shoving him away. Jaime laughed.

“You know how to keep things exciting, truly,” he said. 

“You are not going to molest me here where we are going to get caught. _Oh fuck,_ ” Brienne suddenly groaned, realizing too late she had just issued a challenge to the man who thrived on them. Her body tingled in anticipation but she looked warily at Jaime, who, turning the tables on her, surprised her by remaining where she had pushed him and just grinned at her.

“I know how to control myself, Brienne.”

“Really? _You_ who pops boners whenever I’m with you?”

Suddenly gentle, he said,“Even when I’m just thinking of you.”

“ _Jaime._ ”

“You can walk past me and I won’t grab you. I was just teasing you. But yes, I did hope I’d get more than a kiss. I was just playing. I have no intention of fucking you where we’re sure to get caught by your family. Your father would murder me. Or Uncle Gal would throw me off the cliff first and then your father would bring me back to life just so he could murder me with his bare hands. Something tells me Uncle Duncan would make me wish I’m dead. He looks an enforcer. He’s not creepy like my father but fuck, he looks just the kind of guy you send for the job, you know what I mean? People who don’t look like it often are the very sort you wouldn’t think about them.”

Brienne couldn’t disagree. She scratched her head. “Gods. You’re impossible. I sometimes wonder what goes on in that chamber that is your mind. But you promise?”

“I swear it.”

She glared at him and pushed herself off the wall. Jaime even took a few steps back, giving her more than enough space so she could make her way to the stairs that would take her to her room. When she was up a few steps, she turned to look at him.  
He held up his hands. “See? I told you. I’ll see you in the kitchen.” 

Jaime had to tear himself away from the stairs lest he break his promise. He continued to walk down the hallway they were on. Kitchens were often on the other side, always where the sun was brightest. Soon, his nose caught the aroma of food. Something savory. Something with a generous splash of spices. 

He swung the door open into the room where the aroma seemed strongest. He guessed right, the kitchen was where it often was, as he thought. But he was unprepared for the sight of Selwyn Tarth behind the counter, pulling out of the oven a heavy, porcelain container that smelled strongly of the aroma he detected. Brienne’s father had changed into a clean t-shirt and pants, and thought to add an apron with the words General Cook stitched crookedly, with blue thread, in front. 

Jaime froze by the door, not sure whether to go on in or pretend he was lost. Selwyn put the dish on the counter and covered it with a clean cloth. He looked annoyed.

“What? Are you coming in or not? On with it,” he barked, gesturing at him sharply with a hand. 

“Hello, sir,” Jaime said, removing himself from the door.

“Where’s my daughter?”

You do not lie to this man, Jaime realized as hard, blue eyes bored hard on him. He’ll catch you and that’s probably the last thing you do.

“Changing,” he replied. That was the general truth. He couldn’t tell him his daughter was changing because she’d creamed her shorts, of course.

Jaime felt his face heat and prayed fervently to the Seven to help him not have a fucking boner now. 

“Get over here. Sit.” Selwyn pointed at one of the stools pushed under the counter. “What are you drinking?”

“Um, what are you drinking, sir?”

Selwyn looked at the ceiling as if he were praying for patience with the idiot before him then straightened his head. “I asked what you want, Lannister. Do you need pictures to understand?”

 _Ouch._ That actually hurt. But Jaime, going away a little inside for calm, walked toward the counter and pulled out a stool. “Beer, if you have it.” He much preferred water but Selwyn would probably think him a sissy. Jaime wasn’t a big fan of alcohol though his brother and twin sister could down an entire box of wine by themselves and still be clear-headed. 

Without a word, Selwyn went to the industrial-sized fridge, opened it and pulled out two bottles of Valyrian beer. He popped off the crowns with hardly a twist press of the bottle opener. He set them on the gray marble top before Jaime. Selywn stacked his hands on the counter and despite being hunched in this position, still looked massive and domineering.

“Thank you.”

Jaime wrapped the bottle in his hand but didn’t drink. Selwyn sighed loudly. 

“What’s the matter? Why aren’t you drinking? It will get warm and it’s going to be shit.”

“Okay, sir.” Jaime took a sip. When he lowered the bottle, Selywn was looking at him in a way that said he found Jaime completely lacking in everything.

“What about you, sir?” He nodded at Selywn’s bottle.

“Not much of a beer drinker. Or alcohol. I thought to be polite and join you. I’ll have a tipple in a while.”

“Beer’s best when it’s cold.”

“You would know.”

“I guess.”

“What are you and my daughter up to? You disappeared right after we met.”

Seven fucking hells, Jaime swore as his mind quickly flashed on Brienne’s flushed face as she came apart earlier. He took a deep breath and that seemed to keep his cock at bay

“She showed me this heirloom of yours. A sword,”

“Ah, she took you to the sort-of museum.”

“It’s a beautiful sword, sir.”

“It sure is. Passed from generation to generation. Brienne of Tarth’s sword.” Selywn sounded proud.

“Brienne told me she was Queensguard. I think you named Brienne right, sir.”

“Oh, you approve, so nice of you.” Jaime kept his face passive at the sarcasm. 

Selwyn took a swig of the beer then returned it to the table. “It was my wife’s idea. She liked that the Queensguard were made up of Daenerys’ most trusted women. She tossed it around for months, whether to name our baby Brienne or Daenerys.” 

“Brienne told me about her.”

“Why are you here, Jaime Lannister?” 

“Sir?”

“You’ve been with my daughter for six months, according to her, but for you, it’s eight. Either time is too long before being introduced to the father of the woman you seem to care for, in my book. How come she didn’t introduce you when I visited three months ago?”

“I was on a location shoot the week of your visit.”

“Really.”

“I’ve been wanting to meet you. I wasn’t avoiding you. Brienne knows I’ve been wanting to meet you for a while.”

“But you own the company. Couldn’t you get away to meet the father of your lover?”

Now Jaime’s face was burning. He coughed. “She’ a lot more.”

“If she is, you would have made the time to meet me.”

“I’m sorry I missed meeting you, sir. I really am. But you seem mad?”

“Oh. What gave you that idea? This isn’t me angry, Lannister. You’ll see me angry from ten miles away.”

“I’ll make sure to remember that.”

“Has your family met my daughter?”

“Of course. I introduced her as soon as I could.” Jaime looked at him in the eye. “I knew as soon as Brienne came into my life she was special. Much as I wanted to keep her to myself a while longer, I couldn’t wait to introduce her to my family.”

“How long did you keep her to yourself?”

“She met my family before we went on our first date.”

Selwyn frowned. “You were friends who became lovers?”

Jaime wanted to tell the man to stop saying they were lovers. It was awkward enough and hearing it from his girlfriend’s father made it worse.  
“No, sir. I saw your daughter the first time at a bar. I couldn’t get her out of my mind after that.”

“A romantic Lannister,” Selwyn’s laugh was the sound of thunder. “Who knew.”

Jaime continued, “Before I knew her name, I got hit by her shoe, almost broke my nose hitting the elevator because I saw her outside and tried to get out, and got beaten up by an entire football team because the quarterback conked her on the head with the ball and I went after the fucking bastard.”

Selwyn looked unimpressed. “If you think to make me like you, you’re doing it wrong, Lannister.”

Jaime reached for his beer and finished it in a single gulp. He wiped the back of his hand on his mouth then stood up.

“I’m not here to make you like me, sir. That would be great but that’s not my agenda. I’m here because Brienne is important to me, and everything that’s important to her is _very_ important to me. I wanted to meet you because I believed it right to know the father of the woman I love. That’s it. So yes, General Tarth, when it comes to your daughter, I’m a fucking romantic. If that makes me even less in your eyes, and believe me, I know exactly what you think of me, I don’t care. Brienne deserves better but she picked me. I’m here because I know how undeserving I am of her but by meeting you and getting to know her family, maybe I will be closer to becoming worthy of her.” 

And because he was a lion of Lannister, he exited the kitchen such that Selwyn Tarth was stupefied into silence.

Ten seconds later, Selwyn finished his beer. He was grinning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck you, Selwyn, for torturing Jaime. I do admit it was fun to watch and write. 
> 
> All characters by George RR Martin. I own nothing and know nothing.


	8. Brother vs. Brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A showdown in the kitchen!

Red was beginning to color Jaime’s vision as he left the kitchen. His jaw was tight and he was barely restraining the growl threatening to drift out of him slowly, promising menace the next time he was pushed. Because of this, Jaime nearly ran right into a figure who was exiting one of the rooms. He got hold of himself, blinking rapidly to clear his vision and focus on the person standing in front of him.

Blue eyes looked right into him. The man was tan, like all the men Jaime had met earlier, with a thick neck, broad shoulders and a wide, barrel chest. His hair was a shock of blond so pale it was almost white, and stuck out on all sides. His cheeks were flat, his nose wide and big and his jaw round rather than square. Like Uncle Gal, he was in a hibiscus-print shirt, faded but comfortable, long shorts with the cuff shredded and worn but sturdy sandals. Despite his powerful build, he was shortest man Jaime had seen today, and was as tall as he was.

“I’m Endrew Tarth,” came a deep, gravelly voice, followed by the offer of a big hand. “You’re Jaime Lannister.”

“We meet at last,” Jaime said, summoning whatever pleasantries he had left. He knew his face was a hard, tight mask, struggling to conceal the temper simmering within. But he was ready if this Tarth uncle was going to give him a repeat of the Selwyn experience. He shook his hand.  
“We’ve been looking forward to the visit for months,” Endrew shared, dropping his hands before gripping the lower edges of his shirt then putting them behind him. “It’s been so long since we last saw our Little Bree.”

“I’ve been telling Brienne we should visit,” This, Jaime was being honest about. He knew it made Brienne anxious bringing him to her family for the first time because she was a wreck when he first introduced her to Tywin. He had to repeatedly emphasize to her that as he was serious about her, it was only right he met her father and uncles. “But it took a while before our schedules cleared, I’m afraid.”

“What’re you going to do, starve? Don’t worry about it, Jaime. I can call you Jaime, right?” Endrew patted him on the back, and it was like being knocked on the back by a bear’s paw. “You’re here, Brienne’s here. That’s what matters.”

“Thank you. That’s nice to hear.”

“What are you doing out here alone? Where’s my niece?” Endrew looked around then frowned.

“She’s in her room changing. I’ll tell her you want to see her.”

“Ah, I’ll see her at dinner. Were you going to her? Go, then. Sorry, boy. Didn’t mean to keep you.”

Jaime’s smile was genuine. “You didn’t. I’m glad to meet you.”

Endrew nodded and watched the young man go away. The pleasant expression on his face vanished as he turned and marched toward the kitchen.  
Selwyn was putting a dish into the oven, humming an old Tarth fight song. Endrew waited until his brother had completed the task before demanding, “Are you mad, Selwyn? If Brienne finds out what you’ve been doing to Jaime she’s going to kill you. Jaime Lannister looked mad enough to tear someone from limb to limb.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. And I’m her father. It’s my right to do what I want if the man she brings to my home is,” Selywn pushed his hands in his pockets and looked at him, “worthy of her.”

“We told you to behave yourself, brother. I don’t know what you’ve got against that cub but I just met him and he strikes me as decent. More than halfway decent. I don’t know what your problem is.”

“He’s a Lannister. A spoiled, overprivileged child who’s going to break my daughter’s heart. Or so I thought. But maybe it’s too soon to say, who knows.” 

Selwyn picked up two bottles of beer from the counter and put them in the recycle bin under the sink. 

“What do you mean it’s too soon? So am I right? You are doing something,” Endrew said.

“Let’s just say that with his latest test, Jaime Lannister seems to have passed with flying colours. Or should I say he let out a mighty roar? But who knows how long he can sustain that.”

“Selwyn, this is the first man your daughter’s brought home. She cares for him. If she’s happy there’s nothing you can do. She’s a smart, adult woman more than capable of herself and she’s happy and found someone she cares about. What more can a parent ask for?””

“She should try looking elsewhere.”

“Like I said, when she finds out, she’ll kill you.”

“Oh, pah. It’s not like I’m putting drugs in Jaime’s food and drink and testing if he’s got a lead stomach or something. I want to see what kind of man he is and the best way to do that is rile him up. When a man’s pushed to the edge, that’s when the real him comes out. I think I may have an idea of how he is but like I said, it’s too soon to tell.”

Endrew’s eyes were wide. “ _Gods damn it._ You’re assessing Jaime Lannister as if he’s a suspect or worse. Waiting for him to trip up.”

“How else can I go about it?”

“Selwyn. He may be Tywin Lannister’s son but you’re a fool to immediately judge the cub for being like him.”

“Oh? You don’t think that old bat has been looking up my daughter and filling that spoiled little rich boy’s heads with things? No one’s good enough for a Lannister. I’m surprised Tywin hasn’t been making his sons marry their sister or some other ridiculousness done to keep their shit of a bloodline.”

“As if you’re any better. Don’t forget, Selwyn. We raised your daughter to become the person she is. You had nothing to do with it. You should have been _with_ her rather than leaving her. All you’ve done is show unimportant she is. That she’s not even a second to anything in your life. How far down does she go, Selwyn?”

Selywn’s eyes were hard, icy crystals. It may have been the stare of the Night’s King of legend. Endrew scowled and met his stare.“You’ve no right to judge me, Endrew.”

“I’m not judging you. I’m stating the truth.”

“You still think it was easy for me to leave my daughter?”

“Of course I do. You did it plenty of times. You weren’t the one to mend her back together. You broke that child’s heart over and over, Selwyn, giving her that shit talk that you leave to protect her.”

“By working for Westeros, I am protecting my daughter and your sorry ass, don’t you forget.”

“She never needed a soldier. She needed a father.”

“And now she has me. What more do you want?”

“You know, Duncan’s the weird one and he was never asked, but at least he left his entire life in Westeros and moved here to take care of her. He helped her know how to fight. Helped her get a sense of herself. What did you do? You left. You left and left. And issued edicts and whatnot like the king you’re surely not, demanding we all leap to do it. Including your daughter.”

“You three brothers of mine always had this stupid idea that you know what’s best for my daughter.”

“Because we raised her. We were _there_ for her.”

“What the fuck’s going on?”

Selwyn and Endrew turned around to see Galladon entering the kitchen from one of the doors outside. He held a basket of fresh lettuce and carrots. He was staring at one brother from the other.

“Selwyn here—“ Endrew began but Selwyn cut him off.

“It’s my right to see if the man my daughter brought home is worthy of her, wouldn’t you agree?”

Before Galladon could answer, Endrew exploded, “Not if you’re going to be an ass to him, Selwyn. You didn’t see what I saw before I came here. I told this lumberhead here to behave and be happy his daughter’s found someone who cares for her and makes her happy.”

“You think anyone will ever be happy with a Lannister? Look up your history. Has anyone ever died for a Lannister?”

“See what I’ve been dealing with?”

Galladon looked at his brothers. Selwyn looked calm, Endrew looked to be struggling to remain where he was else he’d clobber his brother. Galladon sighed and set the basket on the counter.

“You’re both acting like children,” he said. As Selwyn and Endrew began to protest, he held up his hand. “First, your squabbling can be heard all the way to my garden. I don’t care if you think it goofy that I find it peaceful to pick vegetables but when you ruin it, that makes me upset. _Very upset._ Second, Endrew, Selwyn has the right to do it. Third, Selwyn, Endrew is also right. Behave yourselves. Act like adults, the both of you. Or shall I get you a doll and make the fight real? Or would you rather a teddy bear?”

“I just think he’ll do anything to keep Brienne from feeling happy. Like make her leave Westeros and stay here and be with him because he’s that selfish.” Endrew said, glaring at Selwyn.

“If she didn’t leave, she certainly won’t be bringing _that_ to my house,” Selwyn pointed out.

“She’s a grown woman, Selwyn,” Galladon said, urging him to step aside so he could get to the sink and wash the vegetables. Water gushed down. “I like Jaime.”

“Hah! You only knew him today, brother.”

“And I find him a good man. You didn’t see what I see earlier. This man trusts your daughter and she him. That’s not something Brienne had in vast amounts, but, oh, what is it?” Galladon pretended to think hard then said, “Ah. But you wouldn’t know. You weren’t here for most of her life.”

“I’m not going to have this argument again,” Selwyn declared. “Where’s Dunk when you need him?”

“Dunk texted me earlier that he’s met the cub,” Endrew said. “He thinks he’s alright. You’re the only one with the problem, Selwyn.”

“I hardly see my daughter and she brings me _this,_ ” Selwyn grumbled, sitting heavily on a stool and folding his lean arms on the counter. His posture remained erect. He couldn’t even refer to Jaime by name. “What do you think it means, huh, since you two are so smart, when a daughter who’s never brought home a man suddenly brings one?”

“It’s not sudden. We’ve known about him for months,” Galladon pointed out.

“Yes. But why suddenly bring him here? Spend one week here with him?”

“They’re serious. Would you rather she bring home, I don’t know, a `friend’?”

“I’ll kill the son of a bitch who dares to make a mere `friend’ out of my daughter.”

Endrew shook his head. “That’s not Jaime Lannister.”

“How would you know? You just met him. Ten minutes ago.”

“I agree with the Endwarf,” Galladon said, making Endrew wince. “You should try being a little more nice to Jaime, Selwyn. Terrorize him if you must, but not not that much.”

“I am not terrorizing him. I aim to put the fear of the Seven in him.” 

“Why do you see everyone who’s not of this household as an enemy? Gods, is that how it is in the military?” Galladon shook his head. 

“You don’t know what I’ve seen. While you live here in Evenfall I’m out there seeing the worst of men and protecting the entire country, you, so you will never know the likes of him.”

Endrew raised his eyebrow. “Yeah. You’ve become paranoid.”

“That’s Dunk, not me.” Selwyn watched Galladon begin to peel the carrots. “Really. You’re not bothered, neither, nay, _no one_ is bothered with what my daughter bringing a man home may imply? They’ve only been together for _months, come on._ ”

“Shouldn’t we be thankful that they’re serious?”

“Not that quickly.”

“The kids are in love, Selwyn,” Galladon patted him on the shoulder. “What are you going to do?”


	9. Just Hold Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sweet interlude where Jaime just wants to hold and be held. Brienne likes it.

Jaime was sitting in bed when Brienne emerged from the bathroom. He sat with his elbows on his knees, staring off into space. She had to call him twice to get his attention.

When she did, his head turned to her slowly. Brienne’s skin was flushed from the shower—a shower she had to take when, as she was about to put on underwear, she caught a sniff of Jaime’s musky scent on her clothes and skin. She smelled of sex and she had been going around in it. Mortified, she hopped in the shower and scrubbed the smell off. She wasn’t disgusted by it. She just didn’t want to carry the scent of their encounter around her uncles and father. Oh the Gods fuck her. _Her father._

“Jaime—“ she said when he suddenly shot to his feet and went to her. 

He wrapped an arm behind her head damp hair and pushed her mouth to his. His was hard, edged with a desperation. Automatically, her mouth yielded at the force of his and she moaned as his tongue plunged in and tangled with hers. Her nails dug in the fabric of his shirt. She began to feel warmer, she could feel her cunt beginning to soften in anticipation. Her leg began to rise to wrap around his hip. 

But Jaime startled her by pushing her away from him but kept his hands on her. A lock of his blond hair lay on his forehead. He was breathing hard. Need was in his face. 

“You love me, right?” He asked. 

“Yes—“ 

And then his mouth was back, less aggressive yet hungrier. This time, Brienne slipped her arms around his shoulders and pressed herself against him. 

He pulled away again. 

“Jaime?” 

“You’ll love me no matter what? You won’t leave me?” 

“What’s going on?” She frowned, puzzled. 

His fingers were gripping her bare shoulders too hard. “Please. Just answer me.” 

“It’s impossible to not love you.” 

She thought he was going to kiss her again. He just sighed and rested his forehead against hers. 

“Jaime? Tell me?” 

“I just need to know you’ll be at my side. No matter what happens.” 

“You’re worrying me.” 

He shook his head. “Sorry. That was not my intention.” 

He was hard, thrusting against her thigh. Brienne started to loosen the knot that held her towel when he shook his head. 

“No, not that, Brienne. Later. For now. . .for now. . .can I just hold you?” 

“Can’t I hold you too?” 

He pulled his head away from her, a small smile on his face. “Always.” 

“I need to get dressed first.” 

He kissed her on the cheek and returned to her bed. 

Despite having been naked before Jaime many, many times, Brienne had yet to shake off the shyness that had her turning her back to him as she went to their suitcases in the corner of the room. She clutched the towel to her chest as she pulled out another button-down shirt, a soft, navy one. She found hanger in her closet and slipped it there. Then she reached for a pair of black slacks, which she just folded over the chair by her desk. She put on a t-shirt and a pair of drawstring shorts. As she bent to step into the shorts, she looked over her shoulder and saw Jaime watching her. It was enough to make her warmer. Hurriedly, with little grace, she dived into her clothes, slowing down only when she approached the bed. Jaime, who already lay against the pillows, opened his arms to her. 

Brienne went to him. He pulled her head to his chest, drew her right leg between his. His arms settled around her, hard yet gentle at the same time. She burrowed deeper and rested her arm on his stomach. 

She breathed and bit her lip. “You smell like me.” 

She felt him press his chin to her forehead. 

“Is something wrong?” 

He squeezed her. “I just need to hold you.” 

She had to admit, it was nice to be simply held. 

“Is my family nice to you, Brienne? My father? You’ll never lie to me, right?” Jaime’s lips moved against her brow. 

She raised her head and frowned. “What’s my dad done?” 

“Nothing. Please answer my question.” Jaime pulled her head back to his chest. “If only we can be like this forever.” 

“Hmm.Yes.” 

“Brienne?” He prompted her gently. 

“They’re good to me.” 

“Come on.” 

“You don’t believe me?” 

He caressed her thigh. “Specifics?” 

“Let’s see. Well, my favorite is Tyrion.” She smiled up at him. 

His eyes shone. “Mine too.” 

“He’s so smart but totally down-to-earth. I admit it’s still weird being on first-name basis with the university president. But he’s. . .Jaime, he’s the easiest person to like. He’s funny. Oh, he likes teasing me too but you’re a lot worse. He’s a great person. And he’s always been friendly.”  
She slipped a hand under his shirt and caressed the hard slab of his stomach and the jut of his hipbone. He sighed and kissed her as she continued speaking. 

“Cersei, you did warn me she’s not going to like me right away. But I didn’t feel that. She’s so welcoming. Although it worries me how much she drinks but she can take it. I’ve just never seen anyone that tiny down an entire bottle of tequila and not be hungover the next day. I think she’s strong. People should give her a lot more credit than she gets.” 

She didn’t see the smile on Jaime’s face as he remembered a particular leggy blond who led a bar in a song in the midst of a tequila frenzy.  
“About your father. . .” 

When her voice trailed off, he put a hand on her cheek and urged her to look at him. “Tell me.” 

“Tywin Lannister wouldn’t be Tywin Lannister if he’s even just slightly less protective of his family. I do believe you when you tell me your childhood was oppressive—actually, all three of you have made me into a therapist of some sort regarding that—but it comes from a good place. He means well, he’s just. . .still figuring out how to do it best.” 

“Has he treated you unfairly in any way?” 

She shook her head. “To tell you the truth, I was petrified when I first met him. I still am. But I think he finds me worthy of you. Deep down, he’s a nice man.” 

Jaime’s eyes veered to the ceiling. “Tywin Lannister a nice man. Only you would say that.” He looked at her. “You deserve better.” 

Brienne slipped her head in the nook between his neck and shoulder. “I want only you.” 

“But I’m childish, possessive, sarcastic, rude, unapologetic, an asshole. A terrible being. Why would you want such a man? I worry that someday you’d see the truth and leave me.” 

“Oh, Jaime, you think I don’t know that?” 

He would frown but she was rubbing soft circles on his stomach. 

“Why still be with me when you know exactly how I am?” He asked, closing his eyes, giving in to the pleasure of her seemingly innocent caress. 

“Because under all that,” she paused in her touches to tap a long finger on his chest, right on his heart, “is _that._ ” 

Pretending to misunderstand her, he said, “I do work out.” 

He felt her lashes flutter against his shirt. “You want me to break your legs?” 

They laughed softly. Brienne pushed herself up so she could look at him. 

She would never tell him that she had him figured out early on. When Jaime Lannister was rude, sarcastic, impatient, impossible and demanding, it was the truth. It was no mask. Yet she also knew it was his way of defending himself. Westerosi society was obsessed with Lannisters yet it did not mean they had great love for the family. Spoiled, overprivileged children who never had to work a day in their lives—it was splashed too often in the media. Tyrion, Cersei and Jaime had taken it upon themselves to prove their bashers wrong by doing exactly what was never expected of them but it did little to staunch how they were often dismissed as another of their rich, lazy ilk. 

Brienne knew, to this day, how it felt to be judged too soon, and in the most hurtful way. She would always be ugly for many people, worthless and mud beneath their shoes. So in a way, she knew where Jaime came from when he resorted to an uncaring, dismissive, devil-may-care, reckless, impulsive attitude. She learned to concentrate on school, and did prove she was more than her looks, shutting up snide comments about her looks to a certain degree. Jaime learned that by more or less intentionally conforming to what people expected of him, despite being the exact opposite of that person, he not only surprised them but earned their grudging respect when he unleashed the force of his roar. There will always be people who would loathe him for being a Lannister, no matter his looks and charm. That he didn’t care about—Brienne knew that for a fact and it went deeper than being a lion who never cared for the opinion of sheep—but he did care about proving himself. That was the Jaime Lannister style, to surprise and strike when least expected. He did that with LSM Creatives. He did that with her, when he confessed on that first night in his apartment that her eyes had ended him, that he was hers and she only had to reach for him. That was the real Jaime Lannister, vulnerable, his heart the gauntlet he threw down. 

He tortured her, endlessly and needlessly. He teased her for her blushes, for being taller than him, he laughed at her awkwardness and her innate clumsiness, he liked messing her hair, he enjoyed groping her in public, kissing her a bit too intimately before an audience. Yet she knew it didn’t come for cruelty, because these were the very things he enjoyed about her, though yes, it drove her up the wall and had resulted in her threats to do him bodily harm. 

Because when he wasn’t pinching her ass while standing in line for the movie, when he wasn’t timing how fast her blushes spread from her hairline to her chest, or whining like a child because he wanted her now and she had a paper to finish first, Jaime Lannister was gentle and at times even worshipful. Sometimes even reminded her of a knight devoted to his lady. After sex, he made sure she had water within reach. He got up from his seat when she entered a room and wouldn’t sit down until she did. He gave her his arm when they walked, he would surprise her when suddenly bringing her hand to his lips while they waited for the light to change so they may cross the street. After her evening run and she arrived in their apartment sweaty and flushed, he made sure to welcome her back with a quick kiss on the lips and a glass of her favorite raspberry-banana-skim milk smoothie. He helped proofread her paper, pointing out a letter or two she missed, asking her about a paragraph that confused him. She knew it touched him when she trusted him like this because he was dyslexic as a child. 

Sometimes, she would peer at him out of the corner of her eye and catch him looking at her with both wonder and amazement. 

And then the words he told her earlier, as they stood by the Valyrian steel sword of Brienne of Tarth. _“You’ve no idea how you move me, Brienne. It’s a gift.”_

Yet, she was afraid. Everyday she was falling harder and deeper for him, and finding it more difficult to stop those dreams of a life with him. For as much as Jaime Lannister had given her a stronger sense of herself, he could also take it away from her. She feared she’d be destroyed if he left her, if this idyll they had found themselves in came to an end. 

Brienne saw night begin, like a dark sheet flung across the sky outside of her window. Jaime’s eyes gleamed, standing out despite the lack of light. She reached over him and flicked on the lamp at her bedside. Golden light bathed the room. 

“Did you find the kitchen?” She asked him, settling down on a pillow beside him. Jaime watched as she stretched her arms over her head. Her loose t-shirt flattened on her chest, outlining the hard points of her nipples. She looked innocent and relaxed, he thought, drawing her leg over his. His fingers danced lightly on softer skin of her inner thigh. Brienne’s chest rose higher.

“And your father,” he said.

“Be honest, Jaime. Did he say something?”

“Nothing a father wouldn’t have done. Don’t worry about it. I also met your Uncle Drew.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to introduce you.”

He grinned. “You don’t need to hold my hand all the time, Brienne.”

“I forget. You’re a lion.”

“That’s one of the things. I can take care of myself. If you can handle Tywin Lannister, I can survive another skirmish with General Selwyn Tarth.”

“I’m sorry if he’s been—“

“Hush,” he kissed her cheek, her temple, the line of her jaw. “Stop apologizing.”

She turned to him and threw herself into the kiss. Kissing Jaime was like drinking cool water on a hot day. It was also like being in the eye of a hurricane. He groaned as she pulled him on top her, hooking her leg on his hip. She hissed when his hand reached past the waistband of her shorts and cupped her. His name fell strained from her lips as his fingers slipped between her slit.

“Still no underwear?”

“Aren’t we going to fuck?”

She thrust against his hand and he squeezed his eyes shut. His mouth fell slack. She smiled.

His eyes opened, slumberous with desire. “You took a shower because you smelled like we were fucking.”

“We _were_ fucking, if you recall. I’d be happy to remind you of it.”

Jaime kissed her briefly on the lips then removed his hand from under her shorts. Brienne mewled. “No sex?”

“Your Uncle Duncan did say something about dinner being served shortly. Stop looking at me like that, Brienne, or I’ll make sure they can smell the sex on you from a mile away.” He grinned. "I don't want to spoil my dinner by having dessert first."

“Pretty please?”

He chuckled. “You’re different here. I like it. I like having a Brienne of Tarth and a Brienne of Westeros.”

“Because we’re on vacation, you idiot. I’ve a lot of sex stored up. I’ve no papers to write, no TA duties to worry about.”

“I’ve a lot stored up too.” He winked at her. “But I do need a shower. I smell like you, you’re right.” He agreed, sniffing his shirt. It was also on his skin. He rolled off the bed and stretched. Brienne, mischief in her eyes, rose to her knees.

Then she pulled her t-shirt up. 

Jaime groaned. The freckles on her breasts begged to be counted with his lips. Her nipples begged to be tasted. The tight bunch of muscle on her stomach made him lick his lips too. But he determinedly looked at her face but her eyes were flashing, heated pools of sapphires, her lips were still swollen and he wanted to run his tongue across them.

But he shook his head. “I’m taking a shower.”

She let out a long-suffering sigh and lowered her t-shirt. “Fine, I’ll get dressed.”

He placated her with a long, open-mouthed kiss that had her humming. “Tonight.”

“Okay. Tonight.” 

“I’ll be the naked guy in this room.”

“Good of you to tell me. I worried I wouldn’t know you from the sofa and the bed.”

“I’ll be hard. You’ll know.”

“You should be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is possible for them to be in bed and not have sex. Sort of.


	10. Panel Interview

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The uncles ask their questions.

Galladon and Endrew were out in the terrace when Jaime preceded Brienne down the stairs, turning to take her by the hand when she approached the bottom. He had changed into a crisp, white shirt rolled at the elbows, baring the lean but muscled length of his forearms tufted with golden hair. Brienne thought it wasn’t fair for someone’s forearms to be that sexy. For Jaime’s pants, he opted for soft khakis, taking note that though Brienne’s clothes were casual, they weren’t the sort you would wear to lounge around in the beach.

Brienne was wearing the navy blouse and black pants she pulled out of her suitcase earlier. For once her hair was tame, staying flat on her head. She wore the black flats with the silver buckles at the toes that had brought Jaime to her, though Jaime insisted they had brought her to him.  
“Little Bree, Jaime, come and join us,” Endrew called out to them, waving.

At night, Evenfall Hall looked magical. It stood majestic against the mantle of the night, which was a sky splashed with an overload of stars, as if someone had overturned a bucket that had them spilling so haphazardly. The breeze from the sea had grown stronger, a fact that made Brienne frown as she held a hand to her hair. Jaime, noticing this, took her hand down and told her, “Let it be. It look better wild.”

The uncles had switched their casual attire for plain, button-down shirts and jeans. Uncle Galladon had pulled his long hair back in a ponytail. The evening breeze ruffled the shoulder-length mane of Jaime’s hair and ruffling even more Uncle Endrew’s messy mop. Brienne couldn’t help but think that Jaime’s much leaner build and green eyes, his blond hair and tan, acquired from the drive to Evenfall Hall today, made him look similar to her uncles. 

“Do you know how to surf, Jaime?” Uncle Galladon asked him.

“I could stand and keep my balance, surf a wave or two before falling over. I’m afraid I have very little skill in it.”

“If you want, I could teach you,” Brienne offered and he smiled at her.

“I look forward to it.”

“Little Bree learned to surf first before she could walk,” Uncle Endrew said proudly.

“That’s quite impossible, Uncle Drew,” Brienne said. “You need to know how to stand first.”

“But when you can stand it doesn’t mean it’s immediately followed by walking. Am I right, Jaime?” 

“I have a feeling that whoever I side with, I’m going to regret it.”

“Nah, that’s Dunk’s job. You’ve met him?”

“Earlier,” Brienne answered. “He went to the store. Has he returned?”

“Getting himself cleaned up,” Uncle Galladon waved a hand in front of his nose. “He bought every seafood in the market. You like fish, Jaime? That’s his specialty.”

“Very much. Brienne’s made me switch to fish a few days a week.”

“For your own good, Jaime. You should see him put away a porterhouse steak. And have room for at least two desserts.”

“Ah. Your dad made his famous apple pie, Brienne,” Uncle Endrew said. He told Jaime, “It’s her favorite dessert. Actually, any kind of fruit, Selwyn can make into a most delicious pie. Who knew, eh? I thought he only knew how to fire a gun. What’s your favorite fruit, Jaime? We can tell him to make it while you’re here.”

Jaime could just imagine how Selwyn Tarth would react at having to make something for him. “Oh, you needn’t bother.”

“Don’t be shy, Lannister,” Uncle Galladon told him. “Come on, give it.”

Brienne was glad she managed to turn away just in time when Jaime answered, “Raspberries. Raspberries with cream.”

“Raspberry cream pie. Sounds promising. Do you cook for your man here, Brienne?” Uncle Galladon asked her.

Brienne’s face was red. She knew how to cook but ate more meals out of a box with chopsticks rather than from a plate using silver utensils. Jaime, knowing it embarrassed her that she wasn’t very domestic, stepped in smoothly.

“I’m quite possessive of my kitchen, Uncle Gal. So I cook for Brienne.”

The two older men glanced at each for a second, weighing in the significance of this then resumed the conversation without missing a beat.  
“Gal, you seem to have forgotten the one time Little Bree here almost burned down the kitchen,” Uncle Endrew said, winking at Jaime.

“Gods, Uncle Drew. You know I didn’t come close to that. I made the mistake of setting the oven to broil instead of bake,” Brienne explained to Jaime. “That was the last time I attempted a casserole.”

“I should take note of this. Brienne Tarth for the first time messing something up,” Jaime announced.

Brienne rolled her eyes. “Shut up.”

“Seriously, how can anyone mess up a casserole?”

“Jaime doesn’t know how to load his clothes in the washer correctly,” Brienne told her uncles.

“Fuck me, you’re such a rich boy, Lannister,” But there was no sting in Uncle Galladon’s words. Not when he laughed and hit him on the back. Jaime feared his lungs would pop out of his mouth.

“So Little Bree does your laundry?” Uncle Endrew asked.

“No!” Jaime and Brienne practically yelled. Surprised at the vehemence of their reply, the foursome burst out laughing. Their laughter continued as the uncles told Jaime about Brienne’s shenanigans as a child, which had their niece protesting loudly, getting redder in the face as she did. But she was no match for them. Jaime comforted her, despite his amusement, by tightening his hold on her waist. She showed him her appreciation by pinching him hard on the side. He jerked, nearly howling, when a quiet voice spoke.

“Am I late to the party?”

Uncle Duncan was wearing a light sweater in pale blue and faded jeans. The wind ruffled his and Jaime’s hair. Both men wore it long, brushing their shoulders. 

“Dunk, we were just telling Jaime here about the time our niece fancied herself as Brienne of Tarth and whooped up a tree with a baseball bat, pretending it was a sword. Jaime, I swear to you, her swings were so hard the tree budged an inch or two from its original spot,” Uncle Endrew said.

“It did not, uncle, come on.”

“Brienne told me there’s not much known about her ancestor. A pity, she seemed singular.”

“She’s my favorite ancestor,” Duncan said. “But, there were a lot of records lost in Daenerys’ reconquest of Westeros, unfortunately. I do believe Brienne of Tarth had to swear her life to the queen to protect the isle. Evenfall Hall barely survived, and much of it had to be rebuilt brick by brick, stone by stone, for almost a century.”

“But the sword, uncle. I told Jaime the gold of the pommel was traced to the old mines of Casterly Rock. Maybe there was an association or connection of sorts between our houses back then.”

“Most likely. It’s frustrating, isn’t? But,” and Duncan grinned at Jaime, “I think as long as it isn’t clear which Lannister gave it to Brienne or whether there really was a connection, then no Lannister would be claiming the sword.”

“You have my word for it,” Jaime promised. “Best we don’t tell my father. I certainly am not.”

“Really?” Brienne asked. “If Tywin knew he’d try to take it?”

He shrugged. “He knows the prestige of owning Valyrian steel. I don’t see the sense of it as my family did not descend from the main Lannister line, you know, the Lannisters of Casterly Rock. That ended when Tyrion the Wise died with no children and took Targaryen for his name. I’m from the Lannisters of Lannisport. A lesser Lannister,” he thought to add, grinning, “but don’t repeat that to my father.”

Brienne kissed him on the cheek. “You’ll never be less in my eyes, Jaime.”

Galladon and Duncan looked at each other through the tops of Jaime and Brienne’s heads. They couldn’t catch Endrew’s eye because he was the same height as Jaime and was blocked by Brienne.

They continued talking some more until Selwyn arrived. He too, had changed his clothes. He wore a white shirt and khakis, much like Jaime. The two men ignored their similar attire. Selwyn’s eyes were hard as they noted the cub’s arm on his daughter’s waist before telling them that dinner was served.

Brienne glanced at Jaime, who nodded, yet was reluctant to release her. She followed Selwyn to the kitchen and looped her arm through his. Selwyn looked at her and patted her on the cheek.

Brienne wasn’t kidding when she said dinners at Evenfall Hall were informal. Jaime couldn’t recall ever eating at the kitchen in Casterly Rock during official meal times. Sure, he and Brienne ate at their kitchen but that was because their apartment was small and the kitchen and dining areas were that, areas, divisions, rather than rooms or a room. 

The kitchen at Evenfall Hall was huge, three times the size of their apartment in Westeros. Unlike in Casterly Rock where the kitchen was still elegant, here, the kitchen was once again designed with comfort and ease in mind, rather than being a showcase room. The countertops were sleek, gray granite, the refrigerator industrial-sized and also gray. The floor was tiled in brick-red color and warm yellows and soft blues were the colors that dominated the room. The cupboards were white, looked more functional than ornamental although Jaime noticed that the handles were in the shape of stars. This was the only whimsical touch. The rest of the kitchen were designed to be used and used well and frequently.

A big rectangular was at the center. It was rosewood brown, and came with chairs of the same color but different designs at the back. Jaime suspected it was because the Tarths were so tall with quite the difference between their heights. An inch or two would be a change much noticed. As he sat down with the others, he noticed that the table was higher than what he was used to, but not uncomfortable. Again, this was because of their heights.

As Uncle Endrew, Galladon and Duncan talked to Jaime, pulling chairs out and urging him to sit first, Brienne walked her father to his seat at the head of the table. 

“You look well,” he told her. “I’m sorry I didn’t mention it earlier.”

“Thank you, Dad. Did you make all this?” She asked, looking at the sumptuous food that lay before them.

“Some. Your Uncle Duncan helped. You should sit down. You’re looking quite skinny, Brienne.”

“I’m fine, Dad. Um, after dinner, do you think we can talk a walk at the beach? Like we did when you’re home?”

“I’d like that very much.”

Dinner was far from quiet. Uncle Galladon and Uncle Endrew were a comedy duo, one-upping each other with more Little Brienne stories as the hour passed. Brienne’s protests were loud, passionate, her eyes flashing as she gave Jaime a warning look and told him, “Don’t believe anything they say, Jaime, don’t you or I will kill you.” This drew a little smile from Selwyn, who was mostly quiet. He watched Jaime wiping tears from his eyes, helpless from the laughter being drawn from him. Uncle Duncan, who was often the quiet one, was also speaking, his soft voice prompting a halt in the laughter. He knew how to do that, make people listen without raising his voice a single decibel. When he finished, louder laughter rang in the kitchen. When Jaime remarked that the sea bass was really good, flaky yet soft, Duncan, who was known to just smile and incline his head at compliments, said, “Thank you, Jaime.”

“Indeed, Dunk, you’ve outdone yourself. Again,” Uncle Endrew raised his glass of wine to his brother. 

“Here, here,” Uncle Galladon said, raising his glass. He grinned at Jaime. “Trust his word, Dunk. Jaime here is quite the cook.”

From across the table, Brienne smiled at Jaime and he smiled back. Selwyn found himself wishing he had a glass of wine. To drain dry.  
“So you are a man of some talent, Lannister,” Selwyn said after a moment.

“Oh, more than you think, Dad,” Brienne said, still smiling at Jaime.

“Where does a man such as yourself learn to cook? Did a servant teach you? Or one of those summer courses where you fly off to some land and learn?”

To anyone’s ears, it was a curious question. But to everyone in the table, Selwyn’s judgment was clear. Brienne groaned inwardly, she couldn’t throw herself in the line of fire here. Endrew, Galladon, and Duncan gave their brother a warning look. Jaime spoke as if nothing were amiss.  
“It started in college,” he answered. He grinned at everyone in the table, including Selwyn. “I reached my saturation point with no-cook noodles early on. That’s when it started. More of wanting to eat something that doesn’t come in a plastic cup needing only hot water. To this day I still can’t eat the stuff.”

“Where did you go to college?”

“King’s Landing. I wanted the Mereen School for the Arts but my father wouldn’t allow it.” He shrugged. “I knew my inclination for visual design early on but he didn’t think it practical.”

“Selwyn didn’t like it when I went to art school myself,” Uncle Duncan added. He nodded. “Mereen, yes. But that was my second choice. I think the school’s focus was more on the advertising side, which I can why it interested you. I went to Dragonstone. I wanted the traditional approach.” 

Jaime nodded. “That was my second choice.”

“So much for supporting your art, Duncan,” Selwyn said. “Are you still painting?”

“I’ve learned other pursuits besides painting. I would like to pick up the brush again but I’m afraid I’ve lost what little inclination I had.”

“Little inclination,” Brienne echoed. “You were exhibiting at Westeros Museum of Art before you finished school, uncle.”

“The fire burned out early, I’m afraid. But it’s really exciting how much visual design has advanced so quickly.”

“I admit we rely on a lot of Photoshop these days,” Jaime said. “It’s easier but also harder. People know it’s Photoshop but you have to convince them it’s still real.”

“In other words, you’re selling them a lie, Lannister,” Selwyn remarked.

Brienne’s mouth opened but Uncle Endrew put a hand on her arm and shook his head. Flushing, she forced herself to watch Selwyn skin Jaime alive. From under the table, she touched her shoe to his ankle. He touched her back. 

Jaime wasn’t insulted. He shrugged. “That’s what advertising is, essentially. Convince people to want something they don’t need. Besides, I’m a Lannister. Why do you think a Lannister is always paying debts? Because he lies.”

“Does that mean we have to take everything you say with a grain of salt?”

“Whatever you take from what I say is yours, sir. I never imagined telling you what and how to think.”

“Sir,” Uncle Endrew snorted. “All of us here are uncles and you’re sir. Really, Selwyn. Why not have him call you `General, Sir’ and shout it after every sentence?”

“When he was home for the first time since joining the army, he was shouting at everyone,” Uncle Galladon told Jaime and Brienne. He nodded vigorously. “It’s true. Oh, it's true, believe me."

“And he was so upset with how disorganized we were,” Uncle Duncan supplied. He said in a theatrical whisper, “I even caught him once cleaning the tiles with a toothbrush.”

Brienne slapped him on the arm. “I do that too!” She turned to the others. “Would you all like dessert now? Dad, thank you for making my favorite,” she told him.

She stood up and Jaime did too. “I’ll help.”

“No, Jaime, you’re the guest. Sit back down. I’ll help Brienne,” Uncle Endrew told him, putting a meaty hand on his shoulder, pushing him down with little effort. 

While the two Tarths went about preparing dessert, Selwyn continued to engage Jaime.

“Why do you not work for you father, Lannister? I’m curious.”

“My brother, sister and I don’t work for our father,” Jaime replied. “We wanted to make our own mark in the world.”

“But why not do it under the mantle of Lannister Conglomerate? Surely that’s what Tywin wants for his children.”

“It’s not something we imagined doing, else we’d have taken his offer a long time ago. I can say surely for myself that I’m not going to be involved in Lannister Conglomerate.”

“A pity. All of your father’s hard work.”

“We appreciate it, of course. But for my brother and sister, it remains to be seen if at some point they’ll take over. They have better heads for it, possibly the inclination. Just not me.”

“How does Tywin feel about your refusal of his legacy?” 

“Displeased. For a while.”

“But Jaime, your agency’s up for an award for your Valyrian ads,” Uncle Duncan told him. “That’s something to be proud about.”

“Tywin Lannister was born displeased. I’m sorry, Jaime, but your father’s dourness is legendary and well-known,” Uncle Galladon said.

Jaime laughed. “Don’t. It’s true. My father’s not known to crack a smile.”

“Huh. Looks like you have more in common with Tywin Lannister than you think, Selwyn,” Uncle Endrew said.

Selwyn frowned.

“As for my father’s feelings regarding my refusal,” Jaime continued with the other conversation, “I believe I’ve proven to him that I can make it on my own. He was so sure I’d fail. But I don’t think I’ve completely turned away from his legacy. I’m a Lannister. That helped things. I’m not ashamed to take advantage of it when needed.”

“You certainly do.”

It was going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted a scene where all the uncles and Selwyn are with Jaime and Brienne. There will be more.


	11. The Walk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne roars in defense of Jaime.

After dessert, the uncles invited Jaime to a poker game. Staff approached the table from out of nowhere, and Jaime realized for the first time that he had never seen any of them until tonight. Brienne smiled at her uncles’ invitation, and even more when Jaime agreed. She could tell their like was mutual.

“But I need to change into something comfortable first. I’m going to burst out of my pants,” Uncle Endrew complained, patting his trim but full stomach. Uncle Galladon said he felt the same while Uncle Duncan said he would start setting up. As they went their separate ways, Duncan told Jaime, “Prepare to lose gold, Jaime.”

He laughed. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“Dad, I’ll just go get a jacket,” Brienne called out to Selwyn, who nodded.

“I’ll wait for you in the garage.”

Holding each other’s hand, Jaime and Brienne went to their room. Jaime started pulling at his belt as soon as they were in while Brienne went to her closet to hunt for a heavy jacket. As she thumbed through the clothes there, she told Jaime, “Seems like Dad’s determined to get some sort of reaction from you.”

“You noticed too?” Jaime asked, lowering his pants. Dressed in his shirt and only his boxers, he went to his suitcase and looked for another pair of shorts. 

Brienne found a long, tan jacket. Folding it over her arm, she walked to Jaime and kissed him on the cheek. “Just don’t let him provoke you.”  
He nodded and turned to her. Together, they put their arms around each other. Brienne sighed heavily as he licked the side of her neck.

“Poker games go all night,” she told him, shifting away to look at him. 

“Do you mind? I can get out of it and wait for you to come back.”

“No, of course not. Go play. But I would take Uncle Drew seriously if I were you.”

“Hah. He’s never played against me.”

“Fine. Don’t say I didn’t warn you and when you come to me weeping like a lion declawed.”

Jaime lowered his voice as he spoke to her ear. He squeezed her hips. “That’s not going to happen. If it does, you will comfort me with that sweet thing you have between your legs.”

“I don’t fuck losers,” Brienne huffed defiantly.

“And that’s not what will be returned to you. But do kiss me, my Raspberry Bree to remind me of what will be waiting for me. A promise. An incentive.”

“You’re infuriating,” she told him, cupping his face and tilting her head. Kissing Jaime meant lots of practice. There was still room for improvement, there will always be. But her technique, still somewhat clumsy and will always be a lot shy, added together to a heady, hot punch that had Jaime groaning loudly against her tongue. Brienne sipped from his lips, dipped her tongue in the warm cavern of his mouth where a hint of apples and cinnamon still lingered. Whimpering appreciatively, she pushed her tongue in to duel with his.

When they pulled apart, Brienne’s lips were swollen and her face was slowly approaching a raspberry shade, making her look more delectable. Jaime’s lips were red, his breath was in shallow pants. Grinning wickedly, he tugged at the collar of her shirt and peeked underneath.

“Ah. You’re wearing a camisole.”

“Well, it’s going to be cold by the beach. Jaime,” and her eyes blinked disbelievingly as she felt something against her thigh, “you’re hard. Let me go. You can’t be late for the poker game. And don’t you call me Raspberry Bree.”

“I thought we were already doing it,” and he rubbed himself against her.”I’d like to poke your cunt. Poke your—“

“ _Jaime!_ My father is waiting!” she exclaimed, batting his roaming hands away. Jaime laughed but kissed her on the cheek before moving away from her to finish dressing. 

 

Selwyn was wiping the windshield of his jeep. Unlike Lacey, his was a sleek machine that, depending on the light, looked either black or a very dark blue. He was cleaning the windshield, frowning and grimacing as the expected result eluded him. Brienne stood at the entrance, watching him with her hands in the tan jacket. He went on cleaning until his face cleared and he straightened up. It was then that he noticed her. 

“How long have you been standing there?”

“Not too long, Dad. I just realized I haven’t seen you do that for a long time,” Brienne told him. “Shall we?”

He nodded and put away his cleaning tools. Brienne waited for him to unlock the passenger door before she went in.  
Selwyn drove. He guided the jeep down the curving path of the mountain they were on, taking each tight turn smoothly. The windows were rolled down, allowing lots of wind and evening breeze to sweep in the car. Brienne was glad he told her about the jacket. She zipped it up, protecting her neck from the chill.

The drive went for twenty minutes. And then Selwyn was pulling up at the beach. He took his jacket from the back and pulled it on.

Brienne, still on her seat but with the door open, was rolling up the cuffs of her pants. The waters had receded but the tide would be coming in soon. She left her shoes in the car and joined her father, who stood staring at the dark ocean.

When Selwyn Tarth was home from the army, he would take her to the beach for a walk after dinner. This meant a lot to Brienne, as she got her father all to herself for a good while and soon she forgot that he would be leaving again. Just when she thought her heart was stronger it broke all over again when she saw his bag packed and he ws once again wearing his uniform. She used to chase the car that picked him up when she was younger. When she was a teenager she stopped doing it. Instead she began locking herself in her room, with the blinds drawn closed and rock music blasting so she wouldn’t know when he left.

She was sixteen when she started driving to the beach to walk by herself in the few nights following Selwyn’s departure. She went there in dear old Lacey, jacket zipped to her throat, hands in her pockets as she walked the coast until she sat down and stretched out her tired legs before her. She had no idea how long she sat there but when she got home, Evenfall Hall was locked up and the alarms were already set. She had to punch in several codes before she could get in.

But her father would never leave her now, Brienne thought as they walked, each with their hands in the pockets of their jackets. After too long he finally reached retirement age and returned to Evenfall Hall. For one summer she had him to herself, hugging the knowledge he would always be home now when she got home from school. She forgot all about college, that she was the one leaving him now. 

Her heart still broke.

The sand was cool and velvety between her toes. The wind couldn’t stop playing with her hair and she knew it would be like a crow’s nest by the time they returned to Evenfall Hall. Yet, she missed home a lot more than she would ever admit to Jaime but Tarth was only that for as long as her family was around. Outside of Evenfall Hall was a life she would rather forget and had been too eager to leave behind. Even now, when she would visit, she was relieved when the plane rushed to the sky and the isle was far below her, behind her.

Father and daughter were not known for being talkers. They were content with their own thoughts and to leave the other theirs. But tonight, each had something to say. Each didn’t know how to go about it, only that it had to be done.

I’ve led armies and ordered who knows how many missile launches, Selwyn thought as a crescent moon threw a thin, silver light their way. I’ve planned and outlined attacks but with my own daughter I don’t know how to begin anything.

In spite of the waves and the howl of the wind, Brienne could hear her thoughts buzzing in her head. She hoped Selwyn spoke first. 

He didn’t.

The ball was in her court. Brienne took a deep breath. “Dad—“

“Brienne—“

Her face warming despite the cold breeze surrounding them, Brienne told him, “You go on, Dad.” 

“I’m glad to have you home.”

She nodded.

“It’s been almost two years since you last visited. Your presence has been missed, Brienne. It’s like you’ve taken the light with you and now that you’ve returned, so has it.”

“I’m so sorry. I couldn’t. . .I couldn’t just get away.” She had conferences to submit her papers to, funding she had to raise herself, taking over teaching duties when the professor she was TA-ing for suddenly went AWOL. At least this coming schoolyear would be her last. She had been filing applications left and right and hoping for a better scholarship.

“I understand that. I never—We never took it against you.”

“It’s hard being away from home, Dad. I miss your cooking,” even in the dark, she saw the faintest trace of a smile at the corner of his mouth, “I miss Uncle Gal and Uncle Drew making me laugh for hours, I even miss Uncle Dunk’s silences. I miss how Uncle Gal is so strict about his vegetable-picking because that’s his quiet time. There’s a lot here that I wish I can take with me.”

Selwyn surprised her by wrapping a big hand around her elbow. Even through the lining and the canvas of her jacket, she felt his warmth and the heavy weight of his grip.

“Do you have everything you need, Brienne?”

“I have the love of a family and that of the man I never imagined would give me it so wholeheartedly.”

There was slight tightening of his hand on her arm that loosened just as quickly though it remained on the spot. Brienne noticed it.

“You love this Lannister.”

She stopped and turned to him. In the dark, blue eyes searched for another until they met. 

“His name is Jaime.”

“Why him?”

“Why not him, Dad? I don’t know what’s going on though I have an idea. Jaime won’t tell me, the uncles won’t tell me but it’s pretty clear, isn’t it?What are you trying to prove about him? If you think I don’t know him you’re wrong.”

“The man does not know of loyalty.”

“For how long will that abomination with Aerys Targaryen hound him?” Brienne demanded to Selwyn. “He was young and ambitious. He only wanted to branch out on his own. Jaime did betray him, he’s never lied to me about that, Dad. Or to anyone who thought to ask if the truth that still goes around is really it. Jaime was wrong, fine. But Aerys had no right to destroy his reputation like that. He has no right to make pay until this very day. How much more should Jaime atone? When he’s never been sorry?”

“A man who never realizes his wrong is a dangerous man, Brienne.”

“When you’re wrong it doesn’t instantly mean you should be sorry. Sometimes you do something wrong to get things right.” Brienne shook off his hand.

“All my life I’ve done things to protect you. You are my daughter. You’re all I have. I lived to keep you safe but your association with Jaime Lannister—Seven Hells, Brienne. Of all the men—“

“What men, Dad? What men? I have more fingers in both hands than true friends.”

“You think yourself so unworthy.”

“You think Jaime is worthless.”

When Selywn didn’t say anything, Brienne’s grunt was a violent gust of air.

“I will not, I repeat, Dad, _I_ will not allow that thinking be known around me.”

“And now you bring him here, to my home. What do you think that implies? Is it that serious with you? Am I going to lose you now?”

“If you keep on treating Jaime the way you do you will. Wherever we are in our relationship and how we do things is none of your business. I’m twenty-eight years old. You have no control over my life.”

“I care that _that_ Lannister—“

“Jaime!” Brienne suddenly shouted. “His name is Jaime!”

“He will hurt you. He will break your heart. _He will destroy you_. What will happen to you, then?”

“I will live. As I always have. You forget, Dad, that you’ve broken my heart many times and I seem to bounce back just fine. _How can you believe so little in me?_ And how, how, _how_ can you not share in my happiness? I have someone in my life who _loves me!_ Who loves me so much that he’s here in Tarth willingly taking a beating from you! When I promised him that he would be loved. That you would accept and love him. How do you think your actions— _you_ —make me look? I have never lied to Jaime but thanks to you, it appears I have.”

“What I do- everything I do is for you own good.”

“Like what? When you left me before I even knew who you were? You’ve left me so many times, Dad. You left me when you wouldn’t tell me anything about my mother. You left me because you’d rather collect military accolades, you’d rather march off to what the Seven only knew where than be with me. How do you think I felt all these years knowing, being reminded over and over that you don’t want to be with me? And now there’s someone in my life who not only wants to be with me but created space in his life for me. You never did that. You never did anything for me. And now all I want from you is this one thing and you deny me it.”

“You can not willingly choose to be with Lannister—“

“ _Fuck the Seven, his name is Jaime!_ ” Brienne’s voice had probably reached the sky. Her anger had Selwyn taking a step back. “Can’t you even call him by his name? You hate him that much? How could you?”

“I hate what he’s done to you! The way you look at him. The way. . .the way you _need_ him. He doesn’t deserve your devotion. He doesn’t deserve anything of you.”

“I’m not listening to any more of this.” Brienne growled. “Say anything you want about me, Dad, but never, I warn you, never insult Jaime in my presence again. Or I’m gone. You’ve been gone for more than half my life. I’m used to it.” 

Then she stormed off, the force of her steps making deep grooves in the sands that the incoming water couldn’t wash away immediately. Instead water pooled in them, little oceans of the path she carved farther and farther away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because Brienne also has a temper when she's pushed to the edge.


	12. Pour Me Another

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Brienne and Jaime start downing tequila, among other things. Some Selwyn angst and a blast from Brienne's past.

For the first time in his life, Selwyn had no idea what to do. He knew the protocol when ordering a military strike. Knew which team to assemble for a mission. Knew how to plan a mission that ensured minimal loss of life to none. Seven Hells, he even know what to do to make chewy chocolate chip cookies from regular, firm ones. 

When it came to his daughter, Selwyn drew a blank. It was like looking at the blank screen of a radar. It was chaos suddenly overwhelmed by deafening radio silence.

He could only watch as her figure grew smaller and smaller the farther she went, until darkness swallowed her. As if she had stepped off the edge of the earth and fallen. Only then did he move, but a small, frightfully pathetic step. A foot slamming hard and sending violent spray of sand.   
Selwyn turned back to the sea. Still standing, a tall, steadfast figure. He watched the slow approach of the tide before it hit his feet, rose to his legs. It receded, as if commanded by a presence only the sea knew. As he looked at it, he suddenly felt very old.

He had never felt his age until he retired two years ago, at fifty-seven years old. The military had been reluctant to see him go. Selwyn Tarth was a living legend, a brave, highly-principled leader whose very presence inspired command and service. His reputation began during his service in the Second Sons, once the name of a popular sellsword company that turned the tide in Daenerys Storm-Born’s reconquest of Westeros, and now a highly elite military unit who only took in members every two years. The process and assessment was highly selective. Soldiers didn’t apply but they were recruited. Of those recruited every few years, at least half would request transfer to another unit. The regimen was brutal, to say the least, and the missions a guaranteed bloodbath in the hands of a commander who was only competent. He had to be the very best of the best. That was Selwyn Tarth.

Over the years, he had met more than his fair share of unsavoury characters. Warlords, most of them, and a few who adopted the fancy title of independent defense coordinator but in truth were arms dealers, mercenaries who kept wars oiled and continuing. Peace reigned between Westeros and Essos now, with only diplomatic relations keeping the countries from war. On the outside that’s how it appeared, men in tailored suits exchanging words. The truth was it was gunfire and men such as Selwyn Tarth, who have somehow figured out the balance between humanity and eliminating a human being without second thought, maintained the presence of peace and justice. 

It was in one of his missions that he met Tywin Lannister. Lannister Conglomerate was the company in which many businesses in Westeros fell under, among them Red Industries. Red Industries designed weapons and other technologies for war. 

When Tywin Lannister was flown to a secret base to demonstrate Red Industries’ latest weapon, Selywn Warth disliked the man on first sight. Here they were, soldiers fighting for their country, living in the roughest barracks with the hard ground for their beds, barely sleeping with one eye open and fingers ready to squeeze the trigger should they be attacked, and then there was this hard-eyed, suit-wearing man who carried himself with pride undeserved. Tywin Lannister didn’t design the weapons. He employed scientists and technicians for that. When he made his presentation, he spoke with the cool confidence of a man who fully expected credit, not to mention honor, due to his belief his weapons kept everyone in the world safe. 

Selwyn Tarth never liked to kill but knew it had to be done. He didn’t keep even the smallest handgun in Evenfall Hall. But he detested how Lannister appeared to have no idea that his weapons had ended lives on both sides. It was almost a relief when a government inquiry was made due to an intelligence gathered regarding the sale of Red Industries weapons to rebel groups in Essos. The charges were dropped, eventually, but Red Industries stocks had already plummeted. At least something made a dent, Selwyn thought, for in the hearing, Tywin Lannister showed no other emotion other than displeasure at being accused of inciting war. He didn’t see the consequences his deadly toys had wrought.   
So when Brienne told Selwyn during one of their Wype sessions that she was dating Jaime Lannister, he had to struggle with pleasantries and civilities. His daughter told him it was still in the early stages. Selwyn trusted in her heart and sense that she would Jaime Lannister for the man he was and break up. He hadn’t counted at all that they would still be together, when she told him a few months ago of the visit they would be making, nor that she would be madly in love. He saw it in the way her eyes shone when talking about him from the computer screen, he saw it in the way she was trying to leap in front of Jaime as if by doing so she could actually protect him. Selwyn had wanted to punch his fists on the boat he was working on. Brienne was protecting Jaime from him. 

But to be fair to that Lannister, he had stopped Brienne and took Selwyn’s blows. And he had been unafraid of him earlier in the kitchen, when he stood up and showed him that he could be the lion of his name. It wasn’t enough for Selwyn. Jaime Lannister had only proven that when it came to words and mind games, he was a prized opponent. But Selwyn knew that every opponent could be worn down, so long as you didn’t stop. 

 

When Jaime went to the uncles for their poker game an hour ago, he expected something straightforward, pretty much how games such as this went. He had laughed at Brienne’s cautioning of him but now, he realized as he struggled to focus on the cards before him, that he should have listened to her.

_Always listen to Brienne,_ he noted to himself. Whether it would stick in his mind or he’d forget seconds later he didn’t know.

Selwyn told him he hardly touched alcohol. Jaime soon discovered that tequila was water for Uncle Galladon, Endrew and Duncan. They tossed them down straight, without licking salt or the necessary bite on a lime. And boy, did they laugh at Jaime when he coughed after his first shot, and coughed some more after his second. 

At some point he stopped coughing. By this time, Uncle Endrew ( _or was it Gal? Maybe Dunk?_ ) had opened another bottle. 

Seven hells, Jaime thought as one of the uncles laid down a set of cards, guffawing. He was seeing too many blondes, too many blue eyes, too many figures thicker and more muscular than him. He blinked at the cards he held, wondering if he was seeing them correctly. He squinted.  
A heavy hand hit him on the back. Jaime coughed and slammed the cards down so hard the contents of the table, shot glasses, tequila, money, and the like rattled.

“Full house,” he slurred.

“Seven hells,” one of the uncles growled. “Aren’t you rich enough already, Jaime?”

“You know what winners do,” somebody said, sloshing more tequila in his shot glass.

Jaime grabbed it, tipped it to his lips and threw his head back.

_Let it burn._

 

Some time later, the red and black haze of Brienne’s temper began to clear and sensations hit her all at once. The yellow lights above her that were so bright in the darkness they seared her retinas. The stronger rush of the wind from the beach. Sweat on her back, making her shirt stick to skin.   
The sand, once soft and heaven under her feet were now coarse and hard. “Fuck me,” she sighed, looking at her bare feet on the concrete. 

She had reached the end of the beach, where the fine sand receded from the hard ground. She could see the faint lights of Evenfall Hall from the top of the mountain. How long had she been walking?

She had been so angry with her father’s judgment of Jaime that she couldn’t stand to be near him any longer. All she wanted was to get away as far and as quickly as possible. In this her ground-eating strides helped but for her to reach the end of the beach and to be standing in front of Crescent Bar & Lounge, a hangout she would drive to from home when she was younger, meant that she had been walking a while. A long while.

But that’s the thing with restaurants by the beach. You could come in wearing a bikini anytime, she thought, finding a wash area at the side of the door, for the purpose of removing sticky, wet sand from feet and legs. You wouldn’t be turned away barefoot. She knew she looked odd, dressed nice in her blouse and slacks and then to be without shoes. Maybe because she still had residual anger but as soon as she was done, she threw her shoulders back and pushed open the door with a bravado she had never mustered before.

Brienne stood at the door, taking in the scene before her. There was a good-sized crowd. It was summer and there were many locals and visitors alike. All pool tables were occupied. A group stood in front of the jukebox debating on which song to play after the whining ballad by Marillon. She rubbed her ears because they were tingling in resistance of the vocal assault.

Every table seemed filled with a customer but there was still space at the bar. Brienne went to it. That she remembered she carried no cash didn’t make her steps falter. If anything she became more determined. She was Brienne Tarth of fucking Tarth, after all, gods damn it.

The bartender was a thin brunette in a tight white t-shirt and ripped denim jeans. Her hair was a tumble of curls that looked sexy whether brushed or not. Her skin was olive, her features exotic and lovely. Usually, Brienne would feel conscious of her wide, muscular build but tonight she didn’t care. The bartender drew beer from a draft and set it before a customer, making sure she placed the glass on a coaster. Then she turned to Brienne. Her name tag read Shae.

“Good evening. What can I get you?”

For the first time, Brienne realized how out of place she was in this bar. She didn’t drink. The last time she had, she’d gotten up on a table and performed an impromptu concert. Pursing her lips to keep her blush at bay, she said the first thing that came to mind. 

“Cuervo. Um, tequila.”

Shae grinned. “Of course.”

She put a shot glass in front of Brienne, opened the bottle of the requested drink and poured. Brienne took a deep breath, sipped it, winced. Her nose wrinking, she downed the contents in a big gulp.

She set the glass down. Her cheeks were pink. Shae asked, “Another?”

“Please.”

“So polite,” Shae remarked as she poured. Brienne took another deep breath and took the glass. This time, it wasn’t so bad. It was like dragon’s breath in her throat and chest but _fuck_ did it feel nice. 

“Give me more,” she told Shae.

“Honey, you have the size to take it but you don’t need to rush,” Shae told her, but bidding as requested nevertheless. “You know, you look like one of those Tarth men. How come I’ve never seen you before?”

“I’m just visiting.”

“But you’re related to them? Ease up, there’s no need down it so quickly,” Shae’s hand was small but her grip on Brienne’s thick wrist was firm. She smiled. “If we could just talk. All night it’s been couples who couldn’t keep their hands to themselves and guys hitting on me. It’s refreshing to have a customer who has no other goal but to get smashed. But maybe we can talk first, if you don’t mind.”

“Fine. What do you want to talk about?”

“Well, who are you?”

“My name’s Brienne.”

“You’re Brienne?” Shae smiled again. “You’re Gal’s niece? I’m Shae.” She pointed at her name tag. 

“How do you know my uncle?”

“We’re friends,” Shae said in a way that conveyed they were a lot more than friends. Brienne groaned.

“Look, Shae, you seem like a nice person but if we’re going to talk about men, I’d rather we don’t. I don’t think there’s enough tequila in Tarth to make me forget whatever you’ll be saying about Uncle Gal’s prowess, or how sweet he is, or whatever information that you must simply share but would traumatize me for life.”

Shae laughed. “I promise, it’s not that. He talks about you often. Like a daughter.”

“He’s like a father to me.” 

Brienne swigged the tequila and held the glass to Shae. Shae poured her another.

“So what brings you to Tarth? Aren't you supposed to be in school?”

Brienne snorted. “It's the summer. What about you?” Shae looked to be her age or younger.

“Maybe next year. I’m saving up for grad school.”

“Good luck.”

“Thanks. That’s why I’m working two other jobs besides this one. I’m hoping I can get a scholarship but if I do, I should still make sure I have in the bank to cushion me, you know?”

“King’s Landing University is generous with scholarships. You should try applying there.”

“I will. Hey, thanks for the tip.”

“No problem,” Brienne tossed the tequila down her throat.

Shae saw that a customer had sat down two stools away from Brienne. “Excuse me, Brienne. Customer. Good evening, sir. What can I get you?”

“Valyrian, please,” said a man.

Shae noticed Brienne’s glass was empty and shot her an apologetic look. Brienne nodded, assuring her she was in no rush. Shae got a bottle of Valyrian and popped off the crown. “Would you like a glass, sir?” she asked the customer.

“Thank you, but I’d rather drink from the bottle.”

As the man sipped his beer, he noticed the blond sitting less than three feet away from him. Her profile faced him, the nose she had broken a few times at an odd angle, her lips too thick, her jaw round and gently curving to a long, pale, freckled throat. When she turned as the bartender spoke to her, he caught a glimpse of her eyes. Bright and of the vivid blue of the waters of this isle.

He knew only one person with eyes like that. It was those eyes that drew him all those years ago. The one night they looked up at him. The only time.

“Brienne Tarth,” he said her name, simply, with no inflection.

The bartender and the blond turned to him. The blond frowned and he grinned. His hair was shorter now and he had just started growing a beard. Her marvellous eyes squinted at him before they widened.

“Gendry? No fucking way. _Gendry Waters?_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The previous chapters hinted that Selwyn and Tywin have crossed paths before. This moment in their lives is what cemented Selwyn's opinion of Tywin and unfairly, of the rest of the Lannisters. 
> 
> Now how do you think Gendry and Brienne were connected before? Stay tuned.


	13. Nothing More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gendry and Brienne explained.
> 
> The following scenes may disturb/offend some readers. Read at your own risk.

_Seven years ago. . ._

 

Two months after Hyle Hunt broke up with her, pieces of the self Brienne lost started drifting back to her. Some would never return but in their place grew new ones, and she hoped, stronger. 

All the tears have been squeezed out of her, thank the Gods. Brienne splashed cool water on her face, closing her eyes at the pleasure of droplets seeping in the pores of her skin. When she finished washing her face, she looked at herself in the mirror. A cloth headband kept her straw-blond bangs away from her forehead, and the rest of her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She would never be pretty, that she knew, and wasn’t bothered for the first time, because she had too many freckles, her skin was too pale, her nose broken twice by a volleyball, her mouth an enormous liver-like thing. But she was a straight-A student. She was on the Dean’s List and would most likely graduate with honors. She was captain of the varsity volleyball team, and had led them to two championships two years in a row. Her team respected her. Plus she had her health, she had her family. She had more than she could ask for.

So she went through her day without the heaviness that had dragged her soul the last couple of months. She picked a sweater that matched her eyes almost exactly, and wore her best jeans, her favorite sneakers, clothes that were comfortable but she thought was a slight improvement from her usual get-up of jerseys and shapeless jeans. When she removed her backpack as she stood by her assigned seat in psychology class, even the girl who sat on her right remarked that she looked different. The girl had never spoken to her before. Brienne sniffed and shrugged. It wasn’t a compliment and she never expected one thrown her away.

Psychology wasn’t Brienne’s favorite class. Sure, it was important to learn brain waves, syndromes, advances the science had made in studying thought processes. But she found it cold, too clinical. Unlike her classmates who teased each other over pretend-phobias during the week it was the lesson, Brienne didn’t enjoy it. She thought phobias were science’s so-called intelligent excuse to explain irrational fear. Her reaction to fear was to go head-to-head with it. Seven hells, she went through that every game, when the team looked up on her, when she worried about betraying the slightest hint of tiredness. Her solution was to practice more and harder and better, and keep her body strong so it could withstand the pain of the game. That, she believed, was how you dealt with fear. Not conquering but understanding it so you knew what to do.

Though unmoved by the subject, her grades were solid A’s. Even when she was spending every night weeping into her pillow, she had somehow kept her grades up and consistent. Studying was easy. It made you forget the world. 

The professor was distributing their papers back, citing Brienne’s research as one of the best in class. Brienne bit her lip but it was useless from the blush that crept up her cheeks. She held out her hand as the professor’s TA went to her, his hand stretched out with a familiar red folder in it. 

“She’s right. Your paper’s really well done,” he told her, smiling. His hair was long and black, hanging to his broad, angular cheekbones.

Underneath thick eyebrows were eyes of a blue so dark they were almost black. He was good-looking in that scruffy, manly way. Though he wore plain-coloured button-downs with jeans in class, Brienne could easily see him in a plaid shirt and a can of beer. 

He was a nice fellow. At least, she thought so. He set up their professor’s presentation, appointments with students, sometimes taking over a few sessions himself. Their professor had little patience for inquiries after class so he was often left to deal with them. He was always patient. Whenever he passed by Brienne on his way to his seat before class, he would greet her. If he wasn’t surrounded at the end of class, he said goodbye to her.  
Attention like that from a handsome boy should be a boost but Brienne was too wrapped up in Hyle, and too confused and overwhelmed with the demands of an adult relationship. But now that she was recovered, she could look at the TA and. . .appreciate him.

One day, after class, he asked if she would like to have coffee with him.

She surprised them both by saying yes.

It was her last class, the season was over so practice wasn’t that rigorous and consuming, and she was way ahead on a paper for another class that she could put off returning to it for a few hours, days even. When Brienne agreed to have coffee with him, she hadn’t thought too far of where it might lead. As far as she was concerned, it was simply coffee with a boy, and she wasn’t miserable anymore.

They had coffee at the snack bar in campus. It was still daylight. 

As the sun began to set, Brienne found herself making out with him in his bed. Gendry Waters. The TA. The bed was in an apartment two blocks away from school.

Making out in beds wasn’t new. If she and Hyle weren’t having cheeseburgers or practicing with their respective varsity teams, they were in his bed at his fraternity house playing their own version of tonsil tennis. Hyle was more adept, he had been with other girls. He was her first.

When Hyle slipped his hand under her shirt and touched her warm stomach, Brienne would jump and that was the end of it. She thought him so wonderful for stopping, for never pushing her. Over time, Hyle would unbutton her pants and she would practically jump out of her skin, shaking her head. He would stop but his frustration was evident in his jerky movements and how he turned away from her. “You don’t love me because you won’t let me touch you,” he told her. 

She couldn’t tell him that she feared he would laugh when he saw her body. Her body with breasts that were more muscle than soft, full mounds, thick, boyish waist, wide hips, hard thighs, muscled legs. Unfeminine. She couldn’t tell him that she’d been mocked for looking the way she did her whole life and that was when she was wearing clothes. She couldn’t, _wouldn’t_ know what to do if she was mocked once she was naked.

They broke up.

Now, here she was, some eight weeks later, making out with Gendry Waters, TA and graduate student at the psychology department of University of Braavos, twenty-four years old, a guy who made it a point to say hi and goodbye to her when he could. A guy who asked her out for coffee. 

A guy whose hand was now under her shirt, cupping her breast. Brienne squeezed her eyes shut even more, hoping she won’t stiffen, telling herself to not stop him.

She was getting so warm.

Suddenly, he pulled his hand out.

Brienne blinked at him. “What’s the matter?”

“I didn’t ask you out for this.”

“Right.”

“Really. I promise.” And he sat up, removed himself completely from her. Frowning, Brienne sat up too.

“Brienne, I want to get to know you. You’re smart, you’re one hell of a volleyball player, and you have these unusual eyes that I can’t ever forget. And you’re more than these things. I asked you out for coffee as a first step to that. This,” he shook his head and made a vague gesture with his hand, “it’s nice, but not yet.”

Gendry jerked back when Brienne shot to her feet. Giving her back to him, she straightened her clothes, found his mirror by the window and fixed her hair. She had lost the band that held it in a ponytail. When she turned to look for it, Gendry was holding out the red elastic to her. She grabbed it.

“Don’t be mad—“

“I’m hungry.”

Gendry looked confused at the sudden change in topic. “Okay—“

“Uh, you don’t have to pay for me. I’d be more than happy to split the bill. That is,” Brienne resigned herself to the blush warming her face and neck, “if you’d like to have dinner with me.”

Gendry smiled. “Sure. What do you have in mind?”

“Anything. I don’t care.” 

Two hours later, their mouths and bodies still hot from the spices of the Dornish restaurant downstairs, they were back in his bed.

Gendry was as tall as she was but significantly leaner. So, when he was on top of her and stretched an arm toward a bedside lamp, Brienne easily manoeuvred so he was under her this time. She yanked his arm from the light and put it on her hip.

“I want to see you—“

“No.”

“But—“

“I said no.”

She kissed him not out of desire, want, not even of lust. She kissed him just to kiss him, plying his mouth open with her lips, flattening her tongue against his too-wet, too-slippery, too-slow one. Briefly, she thought this must be what it was to have a snail in your mouth. The imagery made her gag, which Gendry thought was a whimper so he groaned with her. His other hand loosened her ponytail while the other squeezed her hip. 

He yelped when Brienne pulled him again, hooking her leg around his thigh so she was under him. It was dark, except for the window from which faint moonlight and the garish glow of the streetlights gave them some illumination. She grabbed the hand on her hip and pushed it under her shirt.

“Brienne, we don’t need to do this—this is too fast—“

“But you want me, right?”

“Yes—“

“You said you wanted to get to know me. That I’m more than my eyes and my skill in the court. This is more of me. Don’t you like it?”

“I-I-I just want you to be sure. I don’t, Brienne, I don’t want you think I’m forcing you. Do you?”

“No, damn it. Take off your shirt. Here, I’ll take off mine.”

Too stunned because things were progressing faster than a downhill skier, Gendry didn’t move right away when Brienne folded her arms to take off her shirt. Her elbow hit him right on the chin and he cried out.

“Oh. I’m sorry. _I’m so sorry._ ”

Brienne had stopped and was now looking at him. Gendry wished he could see her.

He rubbed the spot that would surely be purple tomorrow. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

The boldness singing in Brienne receded somewhat but she was determined for this to happen. It was dark, he wouldn’t see her but for the first time, she was terrified of what she wanted done. 

If she was doing this, she was _fucking doing this._

She tugged her shirt off.

After the first item was removed, the rest were easy. With both of them completely naked, Brienne lowered herself back on the bed and Gendry followed her. Once again they kissed. She supposed it was passionate, she remembered it enough with Hyle to pretend with Gendry. But she couldn’t pretend she was used to having another’s hand on her body, a stranger at that. 

She gasped when Gendry brushed his knuckles on her taut nipples, arched against him when his cool mouth descended to her breast. He pulled too hard on her nipple but she forgave him. He pulled harder on the second and this time something shot through her, a blast of heat. 

“More,” Brienne whispered. Gendry pulled her nipple deeper in his mouth. She fumbled for his hand to lay it on her other breast. She formed his hand into a position she hoped would give the expected result. Gendry, realizing what she wanted, pinched her other nipple.

_“Oh!”_

This was the only good thing from their encounter, the discovery that she liked a little roughness. All too soon, his hands were on her thighs, trying to urge them apart but instinct drove her to keep them together, as tightly shut as possible.

“We can stop,” his voice sounded harsh but she knew he meant every word. “Just tell me, Brienne.”

She shook her head. “No.”

And relaxed enough for him to sweep her legs apart.

She felt and heard him reaching for his drawer and she tensed for a second, thinking he was going to turn on the light. He just took something from the drawer. She knew what it was, the sound of tearing foil was evidence enough. For once, she didn’t curse the heat that turned her pale skin into a splotchy, red mess. The dark was her shield.

In spite of her reaction to her nipple being pinched, Brienne was still too tensed and she was dry. Yet she bit hard on her lip when Gendry entered her, cutting the tender skin with her teeth and flooding her mouth with blood. He pushed in, a hard thing wrapped in a weird, smooth texture that scraped her from inside. She was tight, but Gendry didn’t think there was any other reason behind her resistance so he pushed harder, inside.

Again he wished he could see her. See those eyes of hers. 

Tears sprang from Brienne’s eyes. 

She swallowed her tears the first time she sustained a knee injury. The explosion of white-hot pain and the definite crack of bone—she never forgot that. But this, one she took upon herself, one she didn’t really understand and now knew, _oh Gods, now she knew she didn’t want it,_ she didn’t want this. She tried pushing Gendry away but he was strong, too strong. The pain had sapped her body of strength. She couldn’t speak. 

All she could do was cry silently and take more pain.

He was sound asleep when she slid out of his arms. She barely held back a gasp as pain sprang from between her legs when she moved too suddenly. But she got dressed, gritting her teeth, biting her lip, feeling the cut in the skin from earlier. 

It seemed to take forever before she was back at the dorm. She went to the bathroom, confronting what she did to herself. The warm water stung but at least it wasn’t cold, so that was small comfort to the cramping pain that remained between her legs. Brienne felt tears forming in her eyes again as she washed away the blood. But it was over. It was finally over.

She went to bed wearing her favorite pajamas—a long-sleeved white t-shirt grown threadbare and soft, worn pants with singing yellow ducks. It was as if a switch was turned off her, or a cord suddenly yanked off her because she was quickly asleep. Deep as it was, she woke up the next day with swollen eyes. She had to move carefully because her body hurt all over. 

She switched professors. It was still early enough in the semester. And for the first time, she did a little bit of throwing her weight around. She was captain of a winning team and needed a time that wouldn’t leave her too pooped to practice. Yes, the season was over, the team wasn’t practicing as hard but they still were and it was scheduled right after class. She needed to be in the best condition and that meant having free time before she was expected at the court.

Gendry called her. He left her messages for almost a month. All said one thing: _Are you alright? Please call me. Let me know._

Why would he care? She didn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Given how people had made Brienne feel like shit about herself for a long time, it's little wonder that sex and intimacy scared her. She did care for Hyle but years after, when they break up for the second time, she would regret it and be somewhat glad that he wasn't her first.
> 
> Still she was raw after their first break-up. The chapter began with her feeling okay but this isn't the Brienne we know, and not THE Brienne in my Modern/AU. She clearly wasn't but she believed she was. But whoever is sane after a breakup? She tried to be brave, telling herself it was finally over, that this was a good thing. But we can see she is far from fine and is in a worse place afterward.
> 
> Additional: Regarding my note at the beginning of my chapter, please know that this was consensual yet with a lot of regret from Brienne's part. Gendry too, why else why would he ask her repeatedly if she was alright? 
> 
> Brienne imagining that making out with Gendry is like having a snail in your mouth is from Leonard's joke to Penny from Big Bang Theory.


	14. A Second Chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gendy and Brienne try to move away from the past. Brienne thinks tequila would help.  
> Then. . .A BAR FIGHT!

Shae laid another bottle of beer before Gendry Waters, glancing at him then Brienne, whose face was red either from the alcohol or from whatever it was she was telling him. After recognizing each other and the usual flurries of greetings, they had fallen silent. Gendry was the first to speak, asking quietly how Brienne was doing. She mumbled a reply. 

By then Shae was busy with another customers, pouring drinks, refilling orders as requested by the servers Gregor and Sandor Clegane, huge, bullish-sized brothers who also functioned as unofficial bouncers for when things got out of control on one-stag-beer nights. She remembered after a while Galladon’s niece and her friend and found they had retreated to a corner in the bar. Brienne was speaking urgently, matched with tight, fervent hand gestures. Several times she was about to lay a hand on Gendry’s shoulder but stopped herself. Gendry noticed and was looking at her curiously. More intense talking followed before they caught Shae’s eye. Gendry signalled for a second beer and that was when Shae approached them. 

“Is there anything else I can get you?” Shae asked Brienne.

“Would water be alright?”

“Of course. Wait here.”

As Shae turned to leave them, Brienne turned to Gendry. He was looking at the bottle before him. It was untouched.

“Gendry?” She pleaded. “Please say something.”

His lips formed silent words before he looked at her. “What can I say, Brienne? You scared me. I woke up and there was blood on the bed. I was so terrified I had hurt you that I was expecting the cops to come to my apartment and arrest me. And I wouldn’t have resisted.”

“I’m _so sorry_. There is no excuse for my behaviour. All I can tell you is I wasn’t in a good place.”

“But you were hurt. I called and left messages and you—“

“I know, I know. I never returned them.”

“Then you transferred classes. I thought you hated me.”

She shook her head. “I couldn’t. . .I never hated you. But I couldn’t face the consequences of what I’d done. I couldn’t look at you.”

“You weren’t alone.” Gendry turned to her. “Brienne, I could have been—I _wanted_ to be with you.”

“But I didn’t want to be with me at that time. There were. . .things going on. It was a bad year. I hurt my knee again and that was volleyball for me.”  
“I know. I wanted to see you but since you didn’t return any of my messages. . .”

“All I can is I’m sorry for causing you distress. That wasn’t my intention.”

He nodded and put his hand around the bottle. Shae approached with a glass of water and Brienne took it, thanking her. She took a sip of the cold liquid and sighed.

“You’re a long way from Braavos. What brings you to Tarth?”

The question sounded stupid in her head and more ridiculous when she spoke it. But it was too late and she was never the sort to back down. Oh, what a night this was turning out to be, she groaned inwardly, rubbing her eyes. First her father. The long walk barefoot. Being barefoot in the bar. Then Gendry Waters, the man she never thought would see again. As she finished her water, she hoped the night was done with her. She wanted to go back to Jaime, slip under the sheets and push her face to the nook between his arm and chest like a kitten seeking warmth and comfort. She wanted his hands on her and his harsh whispers in her ear, her mouth, her skin, telling her he loved her.

“I’m on sabbatical working on my book. My latest book,” Gendry clarified when Brienne tilted her head inquiringly. “I’m still with the University of Braavos, teaching psychology now. The department’s been nagging me to finish and the chair thought I needed time off to do it right.”

“Well, congratulations on your previous books and the latest one, when you finish it,” Brienne raised her empty glass at him.

Gendry noticed it. “That’s bad luck, you know. Thanks a lot.”

“I didn’t know. But I do wish you well.”

“Thank you.”

Another silence. This time it was Brienne who broke it.

“I wish I could turn back time and undo things. Or do them better. I am sorry. I really am. But if that were possible, no matter how much I wish to make amends, Gendry, I’m selfish enough to break my vow to you. Because those things brought me here. And it’s not a bad place. Who knows, maybe we ran into each other so we could bury the hatchet or something. Move forward at last.”

“I wouldn’t change anything either. But yes, I do regret and hoped that. . .I did things better.”

“You were nice to me. You wanted to look at me. I just wasn’t ready.”

He sipped his beer and looked at her. “We’re never ready, Brienne. I sure wasn’t ready when you agreed to go out with me and then. . .afterward.”

She sighed. “I wasn’t ready in any way. For everything. So, you’re here on vacation, then?” It was time to leave past where it belonged.

He nodded. “I needed a change of scenery. I’ll be here for a month, writing the last chapter then I’m going back. I hope to see you again, though. Does your family own the island or something?”

“Or something. I’m only here for a week. I arrived today.”

“Alone?”

She shook her head. “I’m staying with family.”

Gendry frowned as he tried to understand what she meant before his face cleared. “Oh. You’re _that_ family. I see now. Why is your stay so short? I ask not because I would like to revisit that awful night,” and he got a small smile from her at his attempt at a joke, “but I meant it when I said I wanted to see you again while I’m here.”

“That depends. How do you want to see me?”

“Well, I expect a grand tour of Tarth. My world is my laptop and the beach. It’s getting old. I’m sure there’s a lot more to see.”

“I’ll ask my boyfriend if he wouldn’t mind another companion in our tour.”

“A boyfriend.” Gendry’s dark blue eyes shone. “Of course.”

“What does that mean?”

“A good, nay, a smart guy knows that when he sees something rare, a treasure, if you will, he doesn’t let go.”

Brienne had to admit she she quite liked that. It was still embarrassing, though. She was used to getting compliments for her papers, her mind, but not for her.

“Let’s see if he is,” was what she said, glad for the yellow lights that she hoped didn’t make her blush so obvious.

“If he doesn’t, you know where to find me.”

She laughed. “No. I like my life in Westeros.”

“So you and the boyfriend are visiting? How’s it going so far? Why isn’t he with you?”

“That’s a long a story. But I can tell you we’re fine. That he’s not with me because my uncles are getting him drunk and raiding his bank account. I just went out for air.”

Gendry glanced down. “This is a long way from Evenfall Hall. Without shoes.”

“I know. I was in a car part of the way.”

“Did you get in a fight?”

Brienne glowered at him. “No. I wasn’t with him. And try to sound a lot less hopeful.”

“Sorry,” he said, but he grinned at her. “You’re not a woman to forget, Brienne.”

“I never wanted to be remembered.”

They talked some more. There were lulls in the conversation as neither knew the other well, save for when they used to interact in class and that one night together. But each wanted to be polite. They were both shy, although Gendry was confident compared to her, but it was Brienne who was determined to move forward and blot out what had happened between them. This was wishful thinking, she knew, and so sought to replace better memories with them. 

She tried to keep their conversation friendly yet impersonal. She was never good with asking personal information from people and was even more hesitant to offer more about hers. Enough that she told him about Jaime, though not by name, not yet, and it was enough too that Shae was well aware of her family. But she knew at some point during the night, Gendry would be delving into other aspects of her life and she wouldn’t know how to be coy or mysterious or lie. She never learned that. She only knew to tell the truth and that it was freeing. But with how things had shaped up in the last few hours, it just pushed people away. The realization made her spirits sink and she signaled Shae for another shot of tequila. It wasn’t the wisest thing to do, her head was beginning to swim and her body was feeling heavy but if she was going to go through the night, it might be easier with alcohol.

Sure enough, Gendry asked.

“Who has managed to snare and keep you, Brienne?”

She tossed the tequila down her throat. It wasn’t so bad when you’ve had six. Fuck the Seven, how many shots did that last one make?

“Jaime. His name is Jaime.”

And she smiled. She had always liked the sound of his name and how it felt on her lips. The “m” of his name that promised the humming emitting from her at some point during their kiss, when they made love, even when he just held her.

“And what does Jaime do?” 

“He’s in advertising. You know the ads for that?” Brienne tapped her glass against his Valyrian beer. “He conceptualized them. They’ve been nominated for an award. Some major advertising award. The ceremony is still some months away but he’s hoping. We’re hoping.”

“Those are cool ads. Alright, Brienne, way to go.”

“No, it’s Jaime.”

“I meant for getting a guy like that.”

She shook her head. “No. I never did anything to get him. Actually, he was looking for me because I hit him with a shoe. Another long story. But it involved tequila.” And she tipped the glass in his direction before finishing its contents. 

“I should be thankful you’re not wearing any then. Those are enormous feet, Brienne. I think you should stop now, by the way. I’ve no doubt you’ll be draining this bar’s tequila supply.”

“Fuck you. And shut up.”

“See, that I never thought.” Gendry shrugged when she raised her eyebrow in question. “I think, even with that night, I still had this image of you as this shy, sweet girl who blushed easily, over the littlest thing. Not once did I think you’d say fuck, can you believe it?”

“I quite like saying it. Especially to my friend Jon. He’s the most improper and most inappropriate person around. I used to think it’s Jaime but no, Jon wins this hands down. And Renly, my other friend. He likes teasing me a lot, like with my clothes and how boring I am. I miss him. He had to leave school. Family shit and all. Nothing that bad. But yeah, family shit.” 

She and Renly kept in touch through email and Wype but she missed his company. While she was more than capable of taking care of herself, it was comforting when Renly was around, there was somebody else who looked out for her. 

“So Jaime is improper and inappropriate but Jon is worse.”

Brienne nodded. “Jon is worse. But when he says things like we should fuck just once so I’ll know what I’m missing out with Jaime, I know he’s not being crude. I mean, he’s being crude but it comes from a good place, weirdly. Does that make sense? I mean, he’s harmless. I’m not saying he won’t take me up on it should I offer but I’m not going to. Never. And he knows that. Jaime can only roll his eyes. He’s too confident sometimes, my boyfriend. Oddly, that’s one of the things I like about him. He bulldozes through life with little regard for what people think of him. I’m a little jealous, to be honest. I can’t do that. Will never.” She shook her head slowly and regretted it.

“Brienne.” Gendry tipped his head to her.

She inclined her head toward him. “Gendry Waters.”

“You’re drunk,” he whispered, chuckling. “Don’t deny it. I may not know you well but something tells me you don’t talk this much.”

“Just with Jaime.”

“He’s a special guy.”

“More. I love him. I love him _so much_ that I want to spend the rest of my life with him but I don’t know if he loves me that much but when he looks at me, when he touches me, you know, those absent little things that you don’t notice, not the big things, Gendry, the teeny absent things. They make me think he _probably_ thinks the same but I don’t know, and it doesn’t help that he makes jokes about putting a cub in me and how our daughters should have my legs for outrunning admirers. “

Gendry was frowning. “I’m sorry? What do you mean by putting a cub in you? He's a person, right? He's not a cat?”

“Of course he's not a cat. He's a lion. Try to keep up, if you could. Never mind. My point is, I’ve given him my heart. I don’t know when or how but the man’s taken it and I don’t think think he’s giving it back, the fucking, handsome, sexy, naughty, funny bastard. I swear to you, he’s the best-looking man in Westeros and I still can’t believe he’s mine. But is he, really?” Brienne shrugged and sighed dramatically.

“I should get you home.”

“I’m not going to walk back to Evenfall.”

“I have my motorbike.”

“Oh! That’s better. Would you also mind taking care of my bill? I don’t have any cash with me. I’ll pay when you drop me off.”

“No problem.”

“I am most grateful, ser.”

While Gendry took out his wallet and paid, Brienne got up and looked around the bar. It was in full swing. The music was louder, the crowd was thicker. She yawned, stretching her arms. Gods, she was sleepy. She wanted her bed and Jaime in it, his beard tickling her nape.

She smiled widely when Gendry put an arm around her waist. Her legs have left her. Laughing, her face red, she struggled to keep her balance while Gendry gripped her tight. He was laughing too, telling her people were looking and they were going to remember her this time. At this, she exclaimed loudly, “People know me, you idiot fuck. I’m Brienne Tarth of Evenfall Hall, daughter of Selwyn!”

“Fuck me good!” A man’s voice shouted from behind them. “Look, everyone! It’s the fucking cow of Tarth!”

Gendry frowned and held Brienne fast as laughter hit them like a tidal wave from behind. He turned and saw a short, fat man. His face was red and the spaces between the buttons of his shirt gapped in trying to contain him. He was surrounded by other guffawing men, some as short as he was, some taller, all just as fat and unpleasant to the eyes and ears.

“I haven’t heard that it a long time,” Brienne grumbled, staring at them. She stared at the man who led the laughter. He was wearing a yellow shirt with wide sweat stains under the arms. The stench of cigarettes and alcohol was so thick coming from it made her eyes water. Squinting and frowning down at him, she said, “Who the fuck are you?”

“Who the fuck I am? I got kicked out of the army because of you, you fucking cow. You had to go crying to daddy and planting all those lies in my computer just because I got my hands under your fucking ugly dress. I didn’t get that far up to know for sure you’ve got a dick.”

“Listen, sir, we don’t want trouble—“ Gendry began, beginning to pull Brienne but she was too heavy and she dug her heels in the floor. 

“Humphrey Wagstaff,” Brienne realized. Gone was the slim, slick young man. In his place was a man with a receding hairline and a girth wider than Westeros and Essos combined, _“Humphrey Wagstaff?”_ This was too bad to be real.

“Yes, you fucking cow. Your family destroyed my career and other prospects I may have in the military.” His face got redder and his jowls shook, his entire body shook as he waved a fist at Brienne. “You ugly cow. You should be grateful that at least someone filled you up—“

“That’s not talk I would allow before a friend and lady!” Gendry shouted.

Humphrey laughed at him. “A lady? You think she’s got a cunt between those legs of her, eh?”

“Brienne, let’s go.”

“You deserve everything that happened to you. You were going to drug my drink!” Brienne snarled.

“I didn’t need to do that. You wanted me.”

“Sure, if I'm blind, deaf, dumb and stupid. You’re a terrible, disgusting person and I wish nothing but the worse for you, you fat fuck.” Brienne spat. 

Humphrey growled and lunged at them. Despite his build, his fist cracked on Gendry’s jaw. Because Gendry was holding Brienne tight, she fell to the floor with him. Somebody shouted, “Fight! Fight! Fight!”

“Sandor! Gregor!” Shae shouted as she snatched the baseball bat from under the bar. “Oh, fucking drunks,” she groaned before sliding over the counter and throwing herself into the fray.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title has nothing to do with NCW's movie.
> 
> I didn't delve that much in Brienne's childhood and teen years because that's been done many times in fan fiction and in ASOIAF itself. I wanted to pay attention, in my Modern-A/U to the early years of Brienne's life. Events happened there that still gives her some anxiety with her relationship with Jaime, despite his passionate declaration a few chapters ago. 
> 
> Gendry and Brienne had to meet. I think she's come full circle, or at least approaching, with regard to sex. It was so bad with Gendry because she wasn't ready and neither was he, and with Hyle (implied), she still wasn't comfortable. With Jaime she discovers sex can be good, so, yay Brienne!
> 
> I wanted Brienne to return to Tarth a winner and she is. To do that, she's going to face some losers. That's Humphrey Wagstaff, the guy who was going to drug her drink years ago. I shudder to think what might have happened if he succeeded. But Brienne, now that she's stronger thanks to having a better sense of herself and her relationship to Jaime, she can give this jerk-off the pain he deserves. And he deserves A LOT.


	15. Hear Me Roar (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It starts in chaos and ends quietly, sweetly.

Gendry saw stars as soon as Humphrey’s fist connected to his jaw. Groaning, the floor started to rush up at him and he clung to Brienne. Brienne hissed as she took the brunt of their fall, his elbow slamming on her stomach. Her head knocked to the ground. She lay there, arms and legs spread, Gendry heavy and unconscious on her. Humphrey hooted and there were cheers all around.

Son of a bitch, Brienne thought, wincing as she rolled Gendry off her. He groaned as he landed none too gently to the floor. She snapped to her feet, staggering as she did. Her eyes were blue fire as they bored on Humphrey’s back.

“Whoo! She’s not done with you yet, Wag!” Somebody called out.

Brienne waited until he turned to face her before giving him her compliments. 

Starting with her fist.

By now, pandemonium had erupted throughout the bar. Shae was swinging her baseball bat, screaming like a warrior at patrons who tried to take advantage by raiding the bar. As Brienne fired a series of punches on Humphrey’s face, relishing the contact of her curled fists on his sweaty, blubbery skin, the Clegane brothers swept through the crowd. 

The Cleganes were well over six feet tall, muscular and built like prize fighters. Gregor, his muscles bulging, growled at the ring that had begun to form around Brienne and Humphrey. Sandor, smaller and leaner than his brother but still head and shoulders over everyone else, started shoving patrons away as he made his way toward the impromptu boxing match.

“Worthless fuck,” Brienne grunted as Humphrey’s nostrils smashed under her fist. _“You fucking sorry excuse of a man._ You were going to—“

She managed to hit his face one last time, grinning as she felt the bone of his cheek yield before the Cleganes tore them apart. Gregor frowned as Humphrey struggled to get free. He was half the size of Gregor, so the latter had to bend and grip him. Sandor flung a thick, muscular arm around Brienne’s chest and her waist. She stilled immediately though she raised her hands in surrender.

“You let me go, you stupid oaf!” Humphrey yelled. His face was bloody. “That fucking big bitch attacked me.” 

“Idiot, you went after her and her boyfriend first,” Gregor said, trying to keep hold of him. “Seven hells, will you—“

Brienne’s eyes widened as Humphrey managed to break away to run to her. Sandor was holding her so tightly she couldn’t move. Just when she thought she’d get Humphrey’s oily fist to her stomach, her body was quickly turned away. Something heavy fell on the floor. 

“Nice one,” Sandor said above her, to someone.

He let go of Brienne and she turned. Gendry was rubbing his fist as he stood over Humphrey’s sprawled, moaning form.

“That hurt,” Gendry complained.

“Order! Fuck you all, fight’s over! Get back to your seats. No one leaves without paying!” Shae shouted. She stood at the counter, a small figure of a woman but formidable with her glare at the baseball bat she held firmly in her hand. “Or I’ll have the Cleganes make a meatloaf out of you!"

“Are you alright?” Gregor asked Brienne. She nodded and he left, warning people that if they attempted to leave without paying he’d put them in body bags. Sandor was bodily forcing people back to their seats, which resulted in whining and complaints.

“Are you okay?” Brienne asked Gendry.

“I’ll live. Wow, Brienne, you really showed that guy.” Humphrey’s friends had come forward, nervously, because the Cleganes and Shae were watching them. They took their groaning friend from the floor. Sandor yelled that they haven’t been billed yet. 

“Leave and I will have my brother take care of you,” he told them. They shuffled back to their seats, Humphrey crying for ice.

“We should get out of here,” Gendry told Brienne.

“Not so fast, guys,” Gregor, overhearing them, pointed to the new arrivals at the door.

Brienne followed his finger and stared up at the ceiling. The night was turning out better and better, wasn't it?

“Well,” she said with a heavy sigh. “I’ve never been arrested before.”

 

When it was clear his daughter wasn’t returning anytime soon, Selwyn decided to go home. He remembered his wife enough to know that when a woman was angry, you let her be. Go after her and you’d be lucky to just have blistered ears. He took one last look at the direction where Brienne had stormed off and got in the jeep.

He arrived home and found his brothers and Jaime Lannister deep in their poker game. Galladon was complaining about having to go to a twenty-four-hour machine to withdraw some bills and even Duncan, who was not known for being verbose, seconded that and added that Jaime had already cleaned him out. Endrew had passed out in his seat. Jaime was smiling in between long, wide yawns. 

Selwyn got ready for bed. Once in it, he lay there, staring at the ceiling, wondering how he’d muck things up so badly. Seven Hells, he would much rather be on another dangerous mission that dealing with his daughter. There was no book and there will never be one on how to deal with one’s daughter. 

He fell asleep at some point because when a hard hand was shaking him, he started. Despite being half-asleep, he managed to hit the hand on him. The person growled.

“Selwyn, damn it. It’s your brother. Listen. The police called. Brienne’s been arrested. Why isn’t she with you?” It was Duncan, he discovered when he flicked on the bedside lamp. He winced at the sudden brightness.

“Arrested? What? Is she alright?”

“She is. I can bail her out or would you like to?”

Selwyn shook his head. “I don’t think she wants to see me.”

“Which means you once again said something about Jaime. I know you mean well, Selwyn, but you’re going to have to get it through that thick head of yours that she’s not with him half-heartedly. They’re serious about each other. You want to show her you’re taking her seriously? Then you come with me to the station. You don’t have to say anything but it might ease what’s going on with you two. Come on. Get dressed.” 

As Selwyn got ready, Jaime was in the kitchen, struggling to glug down too-hot coffee Uncle Duncan had prepared for him before getting his brother. Damn tequila, Jaime thought, groaning. 

Giving up on the coffee, he went to the sink and splashed cold water on his face. That helped a bit but his head still hurt, he still moved as if in water. He leaned lower toward the sink and had the water gush right into his eyes.

“Fuck!” he shouted, suddenly straightening up and rubbing his eyes.

He opened them and took a step forward. Slightly steadier than seconds ago. He left the kitchen just as Uncle Duncan was coming downstairs. Jaime had to hand it to the man. Uncle Galladon and Endrew were passed out on the sofas. Jaime was too until he heard the shrilling sound of a ringing phone and Uncle Duncan’s answer. Then he was being shaken awake. Something about Brienne. Something about the police. That had him wide awake but not the rest of his body. 

“How’re you doing?” Uncle Duncan asked as he got his keys from a bowl by the door.

“I’ve gotten out of the first hell. Six more to go,” Jaime answered, rubbing his temples. “Gods, I hope she’s alright.”

“She is. But the police said she figured in an. . .altercation in a bar.”

“What? Brienne? What the hell’s she doing in a bar? Wasn’t she with her father?”

“Who knows what happened for her to end up in a bar. Selwyn was alone when he got back.”

Jaime’s eyes flared golden fire. “ _Alone?_ He fucking left his daughter and she got into a fucking bar fight?”

At his outburst, Selwyn was walking toward them. Jaime’s head turned to him quickly. He was so pissed off that Selwyn had left Brienne that he hardly felt the persistent hammering between his ears. Growling, he advanced to Selwyn Tarth.

“ _You left your daughter? What the hell were you thinking leaving you daughter in a bar?_ ”

“I didn’t leave her. She left me.”

“Which means you did something,” Jaime shot back. Selwyn grimaced and, getting the confirmation he was on a right track, the young lion of Lannister pounced. “Seven Bloody Hells, Selwyn, you couldn’t not _not_ argue with your daughter about me for one night? It’s our first night, damn it. What else are you going to do for the rest of our stay? I swear to the Seven if Brienne is harmed because you couln’t stop whining about me—“

“How many times do I have to say that she left?” Selwyn protested.

“As many times as I will tell you that you should’ve gone after her or waited for her. Why are you always leaving her? What kind of father are you?” 

It was the death blow as far as everyone in that moment were concerned. Uncle Duncan looked at Selwyn over Jaime’s head and quietly let himself out. Jaime Lannister glared at Selwyn Tarth as if he was less than an insect before he turned and left, moving in the swift strides of one who had once again won a skirmish without shedding a single drop of sweat. 

Jaime paid little attention that Uncle Duncan had chosen old Lacey to take them to the police station. He was no longer feeling the drugging effect of tequila, not now when all he could think about was Brienne alone and probably scared at the police station. She was strong, she was big but he hated not being there, not when she needed help, but when she shouldn’t have been alone. Jaime shot another glare at Selwyn before he climbed over the door and onto the passenger seat. Selwyn got in the back and Uncle Duncan fired up the engine.

The drive down the mountain was faster than going up. Much as Jaime loathed it, he couldn’t stop the vomit rising from his stomach to his throat as Uncle Duncan drove and turned and turned. Twice they had to pull over for Jaime to throw up in the trees or the bushes, cursing the uncles mightily as the contents of his stomach lurched out in a violent gush. It was a relief when they got to levelled ground but for Jaime, it still felt too long before they were pulling up in front of Tarth Police. Uncle Duncan yelled at him to wait until but Jaime leaped out of Lacey before it came to a full stop.

As Jaime ran up the steps, Duncan turned to Selwyn.

“If this night doesn’t prove how the cub cares and loves your daughter, I don’t know what else he must do. Give you blood, perhaps?”

Seven Hells, Selwyn thought as his brother left him. Were people going to make dramatic speeches before exiting? He climbed out of the jeep and followed.

“Brienne! Brienne!” 

Disbelieving, Brienne got up from the bench she was sitting on as Jaime ran to her. His eyes were wide and panicked, his golden face pale. His eyes looked more red than green and he carried a sour smell with him. 

It didn’t matter. Buoyed over and relieved, she went to him. He pulled her to his, never minding the cold, steel bars between their bodies. She leaned her head heavily against his shoulder.

“You’re here,” she told him.

“Are you alright?” He set her away from him, his hand on her cheek, the other on her waist. “Are you hurt? They told me about the fight.” As he spoke, he turned her head, raised it, looking for marks, a cut. Brienne found herself close to tears, moved by his concern as he snuck a hand under her shirt. He pawed at her stomach, lightly, thinking her bruised. If he's this worried he must love me so much more, she thought. 

“I’m not hurt.” She pressed her face to his. “I’m okay.”

He sighed. She frowned and pulled away. 

“Sorry,” he told her. “I threw up on the way here.”

“Tequila?”

He nodded. She winced. “Me too. So don’t wake up with a kiss tomorrow or I might throw up in your mouth.”

She was trying to make light of her being in jail because he looked so worried. She hardly noticed Uncle Duncan and her father, damn him, filling out the necessary paperwork for her release. Remembering something, she turned behind her.

“Gendry, come here. I’d like you to meet Jaime.”

She introduced the two men. They shook hands. 

“Gendry and I met when I was in college,” she told Jaime. “We ran into each other and did some catching up. He was going to bring me back home when. . .uh. . .”

Gendry was grim. “Some man that Brienne knew started insulting her. He punched me. I got knocked out.”

“So I punched him.”

Jaime looked proud. “How’d he look?”

“Like hamburger.”

“I expect no less.” Jaime smiled at her then at Gendry. “So two men from your past in one night. Tarth is small, indeed.”

No one heard the growl deep in his throat as he vowed to find out who had landed Brienne in jail.

 

After dropping off Gendry by his motorbike back at the bar, Uncle Duncan continued the drive home. Selwyn was now seated in front, Jaime and Brienne at the back. 

The air was cool and soothing, giving Brienne some relief from her migraine. She put her head on Jaime’s shoulder and fell asleep. When they arrived at Evenfall Hall, it was tricky getting her out. Selwyn whispered to just wake her and Jaime glared at him. 

“Your daughter’s going to wake up wishing for hell,” he said. “I refuse interrupt her sleep for my fucking comfort.”

So he held her tight in his arms, threw one leg at a time out of the jeep. He ignored Uncle Duncan’s offer to hold her while he moved. Brienne was his, she was unharmed but she was safest in his arms. There would be blood before he let her go, Jaime thought, staggering a little at her heavy weigh. His hold remained firm.

He kicked open the front door, biting his lip because he’d done it too hard. He glanced at Brienne, who remained fast asleep. Her hair was a messy crown, her face red from the alcohol and tonight’s events, her lips half-parted. He felt a rush of tenderness sweep through him and he kissed her on the forehead as he continued deeper into the house and up the stairs to their room. 

Selwyn had followed behind them. He saw Jaime kiss Brienne on the forehead, looking like a man both amazed and deeply in love. He was still staring off into the space they disappeared to when Duncan’s voice sliced to his thoughts.

“There’s something I have to do. I won’t be long but do lock the doors,” he told his brother before leaving. 

As Selwyn did as he was asked, Jaime put Brienne on the bed. She hummed, throwing an arm over her eyes. 

If he left her in her clothes, she was going to wake up sticky and more miserable from her hangover. So Jaime went to the bathroom where he wet a small towel. He went back to Brienne, whose arms were flung to the sides now. 

She always slept with abandon. Jaime slept with his arms around her, his lips pressed to her nape, his knee between her legs, her firm bottom against his pelvis. It always started so civilly but as night and their sleep deepened, their bed witnessed wars for blankets, pillows, space, cold feet left out of the blanket suddenly pressing against warm skin. They always woke up with a pillow on the floor, the blanket tangled, the sheets dragged off the mattress because hospital corners were no match from their battles. Yet there was no one else Jaime wanted to sleep with for the rest of his life, no one else he wanted to wake up with. Only Brienne. 

He cleaned her feet, wondering again what the hell had happened between father and daughter for her to end up shoeless in a bar. In the gray moonlight, he made sure to inspect closely for cuts or blisters. None, it appeared. He rubbed gently on the roughened soles, the soft, high arches, between her toes. Discarding the towel, he began to ease her clothes off her.

The pants were the easiest to remove. They slid down her long legs. Despite assuming the duty of a lady’s maid for tonight, Jaime smiled at the plain, white cotton panties Brienne was wearing. She would never wear silks or satins, and he wouldn’t begrudge her, because she wasn’t the type of woman to wear them. He liked her comfortable and herself and that meant plain, cotton panties. Although on Brienne, panties were never plain to him. 

He left it on her. He started unbuttoning her shirt next. It was damp with sweat and so was her camisole but Gods, he didn’t know how to get that off without waking her. She looked comfortable laying on her side now, a hand under her cheek. He knelt beside her and continued with the task. To remove the shirt, he had to urge her on the back, slowly and gently. He gritted his teeth as he moved her arms. Brienne was shaking her head, mumbling something about how she was okay, he needn’t bother. True, but he liked to bother with her. He didn’t want her waking up with a cold from wearing sweaty clothes. He got the shirt off. Since her camisole was of a stretchy material, he decided the best way to get rid of it was by pulling it down. Pull the straps down her arms, past her fingers, pull the rest down her stomach, to her thighs, to her endless legs and finally past her feet. 

He put the used towel and her clothes on her chair by her desk. Then he returned to the bathroom and got another towel, wetted it and went back to her. He rubbed it on her body, making sure his motions were light and gentle. He cleaned her, his need to ensure her comfort overriding the pleasure of looking at her near-naked body but oh yes, he did look and linger, there was nothing to be done about that. He was jealous of the moonlight caressing her breasts when it should be him. He couldn’t help but inhale deep when he guided the towel to her muscular thighs and the secret, sweet scent of her cunt rose up at him. Brienne was a woman who smelled good everywhere, he swore even when she was sweaty from a jog that her scent had to be bottled but it was here, between the legs, where she was headiest. This was something he’d get drunk on, willingly, many times. With a soft growl, he pressed his nose on the covered thatch of curls. Scenting her got him hard, dizzyingly quickly. A kiss on her thighs, right on her cunt through her underwear would have to suffice. He left her panties on and pulled the sheets to cover her from throat to toes before returning to the bathroom.

He took a quick shower. Now the effects of the alcohol were seeping back, the hammering in his head had returned. He brushed his teeth and gargled then popped an Advil. He pulled on an old pair of boxers and joined her in bed.

Jaime slipped behind her, his head stuffed with tequila clouds, his body once again moving through water. He reached for Brienne, putting an arm around her waist, tucking himself against her back. The scent of her fading vanilla shampoo helped his headache a bit. He closed his eyes.  
Before he gave himself to the darkness, Brienne put her arm over his, the one wrapped around her waist. He had to be dreaming, he thought, he had to be dreaming it when she said these words, her voice heavy and dragged from sleep:

“My Jaime. Can I keep you forever?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where is Uncle Duncan off to?


	16. An Exchange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So who is Duncan Tarth? 
> 
> Jaime and Brienne are hungover.

While the rest of Evenfall Hall slept, exhausted from the long night, Duncan Tarth was driving back to the beach, but headed in the direction of the pier. He spied the soft, white glow of the lamps that lit the area as he pulled over in a deserted parking lot. He took the keys out and stepped out of the vehicle.

Leaning over the railing was Goodwin. He was in his late forties. His dark hair was beginning to gray at the temples. In his youth, he had been muscled. Island life had softened him but he couldn’t be called fat. He was still wiry, watching what he ate, taking long walks and the occasional run by the beach. He once told Duncan that as good-looking he was then being trim, he remembered too well that the upkeep required blood and dead bodies. 

He heard rather than sensed Duncan’s approach because he turned around. Nodding in recognition of the man coming to him, he remained on his spot and waited.

The two men shook hands. Their friendship went a long way back that neither could remember when they met and the exact circumstances that put them in each other’s life. But each had a deep trust in the other, and looked out for each other. Goodwin had arrived in Tarth not too long after Duncan returned. He reasoned to Duncan that after seeing all he had, he wanted to believe in something good again, he wanted to remember he was alive. Being near water and a place as small as Tarth was what he needed. Duncan never encouraged him to leave, knowing too well the need to be around a place that bustled with life.

“Sorry if I kept you waiting,” Duncan told him after they finished shaking hands.

“Don’t worry about it.” Goodwin tapped the folder he sandwiched between his elbow and the narrow shelf of the railing. Duncan looked at it.

“Is that what I asked for?”

Goodwin gave it to him. Duncan flipped through the contents, frowning.

“I didn’t know that bastard tried to do that to my niece,” he said after a few seconds of scanning pages. In the dark, despite his casual dress, Duncan looked like the man he was all those years ago, menacing and merciless. He shut the folder and set it back on the railing.

“He’s been known to do it. Charges would be filed but always dropped. I think your niece is the only one who got away.”

“Thank the Gods.”

“What do you want done?”

Duncan shook his head. “This doesn’t involve you, Goodwin.”

“No. But she is important to you. You’re the closest I have to a family, and her to a daughter. No daughter of mine would ever be treated like that sick fuck did.”

“She got away, you said. That’s what matters.”

“But you don’t want him here,” Goodwin filled in for his unspoken thought.

“No. I don’t want him here.”

“Let me handle it.”

The two men looked at each other. 

“You moved to Tarth to put those stays behind you,” Duncan reminded him.

“So did you. Yet here we are again. You know of my loyalty to you and your family.”

“I never asked for gratitude or eternal debt.”

“Yet if not for you I wouldn’t be here standing before you. My family would be dead, Agent Tarth.” Goodwin told him. “I want to do this.”  
When Duncan didn’t answer, Goodwin joked, “What’s the point of my being alive if I’ll continue playing dead? All those skills you taught me are just rusticating.”

Duncan sighed. “No blood, Goodwin. Keep it clean.”

“Don’t I always? You taught me well, but I suppose in your old age, memory is difficult.”

“Idiot. Shut up.”

 

Jaime woke up to what could only be the sounds of an animal in the throes of death emanating from the bathroom. He rubbed his eyes, opened them and looked right into the sun swooping into the room. He groaned, turning on his side. 

Now that he was awake, the repercussions of last night’s debauchery fell on his body. The Advil taken before bed was little use to the sledgehammer beating his brains in. His tongue felt thick and heavy with a dry flavour that made him gag, as if he hadn’t brushed and washed his mouth the night before. He had little inclination to get up but he knew if he did, his arms and legs would just flail, useless and limp. 

A toilet was flushed and the door opened to reveal Brienne. Jaime had yet to see himself but he could already tell she looked worse than he was. Her hair was a limp, oily mess plastered on her skull. Her eyes were robbed of their usual sparkle, in their place a dull stare. She was wearing his shirt from last night, buttoned crookedly. If neither of them felt like Seven Hells, she would be smiling shyly, red on her cheeks, and he’d be telling her to get naked and fuck him.

Because he could only look at her, he said, “Get back here.” 

Gods, it even hurt his head to hear himself speak. 

He moved to her side of the bed, his body sinking in the dent her body had left on the mattress. She went to the spot he just vacated, turning to her side. In spite of the hell raging through her body right now, Brienne felt some comfort when his arm flung around her waist and he spooned himself behind her. She closed her eyes. Despite throwing up, her body still felt heavy and her stomach an empty, sour pit. It wasn’t hunger, not when her entire body was revolted at the idea of food right now and mixing with the alcohol still swimming in her veins. Ooh. No, no. Not swimming, she thought as another flare of pain rose behind her eyeballs.

“I want to die,” she moaned against the pillow that smelled of his skin. Fresh with the slight tang of sweat. 

“She felt rather than saw Jaime shake his head behind her, his nose her nape. “No, me first.”

“If you love me, you’ll kill _me_ first.”

“If _you_ love me, you’ll kill me first.”

Brienne groaned, putting both hands to her face, her legs curling to his chest. Jaime grunted and smooshed his body closer to her.  
“Jaime, I feel so fucked right now that I can’t. . .I just don’t. . .don’t argue with me.”

“Did you take Advil?” He asked her.

She nodded. It hurt to even nod.

“Just sleep,” he told her. “I’ve more hangovers than you. What makes this, your second?”

“I thought I was going to sleep.”

“So sleep.”

Jaime slipped his hand under her shirt, needing the warmth of her skin against his when his own stomach groaned against her hip. Brienne whimpered and turned away from him so she was facedown on the bed.

“Let me sleep, Jaime,” she growled.

“It’s not my fault! I didn’t mean to.”

He put his hand on her buttocks, slipped his fingers past the waistband of her panties. He squeezed the supple flesh.

“We are _not_ fucking, Jaime.”

“You’re warm here. I need it. I think I’ll throw up if we fuck.”

“That makes two of us.”

“Should we be worried that the idea of fucking each other makes us sick right now?”

“I think if feeling the way we do and we still have sex we’re sadists or something. It’s surely as idiotic as getting on a rollercoaster when you’re feeling sick. Jaime, I thought you wanted me to sleep. I want to sleep.”

He sighed against her shoulder. “Let’s sleep.” 

After a minute or two, Brienne suddenly asked her face still pressed on the pillow, “How long do hangovers last?”

“I thought this wasn’t your first?”

“I felt shit the entire day and got a football to my face. I certainly don’t want a repeat of that. I mean, when you do something for the second time, it’s supposed to be better, right?” 

“I can tell you that if we _don’t sleep_ it’s going to be for more than a day,” Jaime complained. 

“Unfair. You yakked longer than I did earlier.”

“That’s because you let me. Sleep, Brienne. _I want to sleep, damn it._ ”

“Cranky, much? I guess age and hangovers don’t really mix, then.”

“If there isn’t a fist squeezing at my brain right now, I’d show you that age only makes me better.”

“I wouldn’t know, Jaime. I’m so close to passing out that even if you fuck me hard, I wouldn’t know it.”

Jaime shook his head and moaned. “You are torturing me.”

“I thought _you_ wanted to sleep!”

“ _I_ thought you wanted to sleep!”

“Fuck you, Jaime Lannister.”

“ _`I will fuck you, Jaime Lannister,'_ that's what you should say,” he amended, sighing deeply. “But later. Much, much later.” 

In the next instant, they started a snore duet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Duncan Tarth has been really mysterious. The chapter doesn't provide much answers but I hope, there are less questions about what he was like/is like.
> 
> Even when hungover, Jaime and Brienne still manage to squeeze in a discussion about sex. These two. *shakes head


	17. In Defense of the Cub

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Galladon, Duncan and Endrew band together for Selwyn to see sense. Selwyn admits where his mistrust and dislike of Jaime comes from.

While Jaime and Brienne scared off the birds flying past their window with their loud snoring, the Tarth brothers busied themselves. The four of them always rose early, no matter how late they slept the night before. Except for Endrew yawning hugely and rudely over breakfast, which had Selwyn glaring at him over coffee, it was just another morning.

The Tarths, still healthy and very much able-bodied, only employed minimum help. There was a housekeeper who oversaw a small staff, and the gardeners who maintained the grounds came by four times a week. Cooking was mostly done by Selwyn, a time he was quite greedy about as it was an activity he found relaxing. Any maintenance involving carpentry or things technical were either done by Duncan himself or he oversaw it, employing them only he’d fact-checked everything about them. Galladon’s vegetable garden was his pride and joy, so he took care of it and hardly let any of the gardeners handle it. Endrew spent the day at his motorbike rental shop, returning late in the afternoon or early in the evening.

The Tarths have always been self-sufficient. It was a practice ingrained in their Little Bree and they hoped, very much, would be shared by the man she would choose. 

“Jaime Lannister strikes me as someone who is more than capable of taking care of himself and my niece,” Galladon was saying over breakfast. His breakfast consisted of six strips of bacon, fried eggs, apple pie from the night before, and a beverage that was half coffee and half cream. 

“That’s what I’ve been telling our brother here,” Duncan said with a sidelong glance at Selwyn, who grunted as he sipped his black tea. “And he clearly cares for your daughter, Selwyn. I ask you again, what else must the boy do?”

“Lannister a boy,” Selwyn shook his head. “Do you know how much older he is than Brienne?”

“He told me he’s thirty-eight,” Endrew raised his eyebrow. “How is that a big deal? You were nine years older than Arianne.”

“And she wasn’t finished with school yet when you knocked her up,” Galladon remarked. Selwyn blushed. “Older guy like yourself should know better. Jaime Lannister knows better than you in that he made sure that at least Brienne’s way past college. Arianne was just a kid, basically.”

“Unlike Lannister, I was fighting wars. I had something I believed in. All that man knows is money and being rich.”

“Selwyn, okay,” Endrew wiped his lips on a cloth napkin. “This stern father act of yours, we thought you were just joking at first but it’s real, isn’t it? But you have to tell us what you’ve got against the cub. Honestly. If he’s not cow-eyed at your daughter he’s mooning over her.”

“Touching, asking her if she’s okay,” Duncan added, to their surprise. “The last time I carried Brienne she was twelve and I almost broke my back. I’m a lot bigger than Jaime but he carried her from old Lacey up to their room without breaking a sweat. I don’t know what to call that but Selwyn, come on. He’s devoted to Brienne.”

Galladon was startled. “He carried her all the way to her room? From the garage?”

“Jumped down from Lacey, onto the garage, and all the way to her room. I feared he’d break an ankle or something but it was effortless, it looked like.”

Endrew shook his head and pointed a fork stabbed with sausage at Selwyn. “Clearly the cub is healthy too. Selwyn, I don’t get it. He has a good heart, literally and figuratively. What more could you ask for?”

“Has no one in this table realized what Brienne bringing him home to meet us entail?” Selwyn asked them in a voice seething with the temper he was trying to contain.

“Of course we know!” Galladon groaned. “And it breaks our heart but you have to admit, who here ever thought that our shy, introverted niece would fall in love and get a man like Jaime Lannister?”

“Who is self-made.”

“Bound to get the recognition he deserves soon.”

“Intelligent.”

“Hard-working.”

“Creative! Imaginative.”

“Protective.”

“Caring.”

“Madly, truly, deeply, helplessly, happily in love with Brienne.”

"He took all our money last night but we still like him." 

Selwyn wanted to groan out loud at the rapidity of compliments about Jaime Lannister. He set his plate aside. “He’s a Lannister! I never imagined my daughter would be in any way connected to Tywin Lannister.”

At his words, the table descended into quiet.

Duncan looked at his brothers and spoke.

“Selwyn, if this is about that arms dealing scandal—“

“Damn right it is.”

“That was fucking years ago. Jaime was. . .he was only a kid then. You think he had something to do with it?”

“He was twenty-five. If you remember he was questioned too. Categorically denied everything but he himself told us that Lannisters lie. Tywin Lannister ensures his children know how everything in their business runs. It is impossible that. . .that Lannister did not know.”

“Is that why you’re being so nice to our guest?” Galladon looked incredulous. “Selwyn. You of all of people know that you can’t judge until everything’s uncovered. The Lannisters were cleared. It was some senior-level employee doing those illegal acts.”

“How sure are we that it wasn’t some fall guy, eh?”

“The Lannisters lost millions from the scandal, Selwyn,” Duncan reminded him.

“Three years ago they revived it. They’re still developing weapons. Of course they’ve managed to sell this protection for Westeros and the world bull. I don’t believe one word of it.”

“If Jaime said he had nothing to do with the company then I believe him,” Endrew declared. “I don’t see any reason why he should lie. If you’d spent more time getting to know him than alienating him, you’d know he doesn’t have the best relationship with Tywin and is actually ashamed of what his father has done in the name of family and ensuring the Lannister legacy.”

“Jaime told me he uses his name. So he’s not entirely ashamed of the legacy.”

“Uses his name, no doubt, to get his way,” Galladon reminded him. “You dolt. Like you don’t do that around here. People don’t respect you, Selwyn. They fear you.”

Duncan chuckled. “I thought they feared _me._ ”

“They find you creepy but no, it’s our drear brother here that sends them crying and having nightmares.”

Galladon, Selwyn and Endrew laughed. Selwyn debated whether to hurl coffee at them or keep calm. He elected for sanity.

“I’m beginning to see now what exactly happened between you and my niece last night,” Duncan told Selwyn after they finished laughing. “You laid it on too thick with your disapproval of Jaime and Brienne wouldn’t hear it. That is why she ended up at the bar and why you got back here alone. Really, Selwyn. Sometimes, I can’t believe you’re this famous military leader. You won’t leave a man behind in the field but you let your daughter run off and didn’t even go after her. What if the fight at the bar was worse and she got hurt?”

“But she wasn’t.”

“Thanks to me. You couldn’t even spend enough time with her between your missions to teach her how to fight. I did it. We all did. You’r here now, you have no reason to leave but it seems you’re pushing her away.”

“This can all be fixed if you ask Jaime point-blank,” Endrew suggested. “The cub is all about Lannisters lying, how you can’t trust Lannisters but it’s all in jest, Selwyn. He won’t lie if you ask him. I don’t know if he’ll be pissed at you but trust me, he won’t lie to you.”

“And so what if he may be asking Brienne that question?” Galladon shrugged. “They’re mature adults with a strong sense of themselves, more than capable of sharing a life together. They’re in love. They’re happy. You have to accept your daughter’s no longer the little girl who sat by her window counting the days of your return.”

“Personally, I can’t wait for a grand-niece,” Duncan said, the information surprising everyone yet again. “Can you imagine? Blue eyes have always been dominant Tarth trait. We’ve married brown eyes, green eyes, but the blue just persists. Mix that with Lannister genes and they’re going to have one good-looking kid, I tell you. ”

“Or kids.” Endrew said, grinning. “Something tells me Jaime would like more than one and Brienne would be more than happy to give him more.”

As his two brothers talked some more about children Jaime and Brienne would be having, Galladon turned to Selwyn.

“This is hard for you, isn’t it?”

“I just got my daughter back. I just returned to her.”

“There’s nothing to do about the past, brother.”

“Was I wrong? Tell me.”

Galladon thought for a few moments then said, “You believed you had to make that sacrifice. But you should not forget that sacrifices mean harder choices we make with results that will not be to everyone’s liking. You thought it best to leave your daughter with us—in that, I can see it wasn’t wrong. But that you made her feel she wasn’t as important as a result, that was unfortunate, Selwyn. But it’s in the past. There’s no way of undoing it. _Now_ is what matters.”

Selwyn was silent.

That meant, for Galladon, that he could continue.

“Are you willing to lose your daughter for good just because of something Jaime’s father didn’t do, just because of something you thought he and his father were responsible for? Your happiness hangs on all these suspicions, Selwyn, and I wonder if maybe that’s what you’d rather have than your daughter and her happiness. She’s happy for the _very first time in her life,_ Selwyn. Even if she were to bring home some pierced, tattooed thug, who makes a living selling t-shirts, as long as he cares deeply for her, and puts her happiness first and she’s happy with him, I’d welcome him to the family. Oh, I’ll ask him if selling t-shirts is all he wants to do or if he’s doing anything illegal and I might not like his answers but if he makes her happy, _hat’s all that matters._ That’s good enough for me.”

Long after breakfast ended, Selwyn was still seated, his coffee cold, his thoughts elsewhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe something or someone's gotten through Selwyn. I sure hope so.


	18. As We Wish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne lets Jaime know the extent of her feelings.
> 
> BRACE YOURSELVES. FLUFF IS COMING.

It was late in the morning when Brienne made her way downstairs gingerly. Her head still hurt. Advil mixed with sleep threw the headache back, somewhat, like a surprise, advancing army steadily working its way in driving the enemy to the edge of the cliff. She climbed down the stairs carefully, worried that too fast a movement would make her head swim and she didn’t want to get down before the porcelain god again. Not for a long time.

Bright sunlight bathed the inside of the house, rendering everything in golden light and kissed lightly by the fire. She went to the kitchen, where a housekeeper was wiping the counter. Upon seeing Brienne, she was asked if there was anything she wanted.

“Thank you, but would you mind if I make it myself?” She asked.

She may have grown up with a modest staff but after almost ten years of doing things on her own, she was uncomfortable with people doing things for her. And she wasn’t the one paying them, her father did. Thinking of her father made Brienne grateful she was standing before the cool fridge, getting fresh milk and pulling out other items such as a package of turkey bacon. She was still angry with Selwyn. As she stacked the items in her arms, she remembered that Jaime wasn't a big fan of lean meat. He had no choice this morning, she thought.   
As she watched the bacon in between making the pancake batter, she conjured up images of him still fast asleep on her bed. As elegant and graceful Jaime Lannister was on his feet, once he was dead to the world he was the most awkward and funniest sleeper. He would deny it but he snored. Quite loudly. He ended up in positions that just looking made Brienne’s muscles stiffen. His legs tend to hang off the edge of the bed, no matter how big the space was. Today, she left him, with much hesitation, still sprawled on his stomach, snoring softly. He was licking his lips loudly and smacking them in between snores.

As unsexy as he looked, Brienne had blushed and gently brushed his hair away from his forehead. He may be awkward asleep but there was a lot to appreciate about Jaime when he was. His face softened when asleep, giving her a glimpse of the little boy he must have been. And no matter how he had curled his body, it did not lessen his impact on her senses. Long limbs, wide chest, sleek muscles, even golden skin all over. He was a lion when awake but fast asleep, she thought, seeing him turn on his back just before she closed the door behind her, he was a cat with his tight abdomen turned to the sun.

The aroma of the food sent her stomach growling. She put pancakes on plates, drowning them in maple syrup exactly as Jaime liked and which she didn’t but today she craved a lot of sweetness. She added a generous pat of butter, surrounded the pancakes with the curled strips of bacon. Lastly was fresh coffee in mugs. Black with cream and three sugars for Jaime, all black for her. She put them on a tray, mumbled a prayer to the Seven she didn’t get into an accident, and went to her room.

The door opened just as she arrived in front of it, thinking to put the tray on the floor so she turn the doorknob. She blushed when she saw Jaime. His hair stuck out in all directions, the tips glinting like the finest gold, his green eyes were still heavy with sleep and swollen but the smile slowly spreading across his face was sexy and confident. He had put on a t-shirt and shorts.

“For me?” He asked, noticing the tray. He swept the door wide open as she nodded.

“I was hoping you’d share but I forget that lions have huge appetites,” Brienne told him as she set the tray down on the nightstand. 

Jaime’s eyes warmed appreciatively at the generous amount of thighs and legs thanks to her denim shorts. “That we do,” he murmured, shutting the door behind him.

Brienne squeaked in surprise when he was suddenly behind her, turning her around to face him. With one hand around her waist and the other on her cheek, he pressed a soft, tasting kiss on her lips. How could such a kiss make her head swim? She wondered as her hands went to his shoulders. She would never get used to how Jaime needed her, wanted her like this. And it wasn’t a bad thing, she realized, kissing him back. His breath was dry, his lips were a little crusty but she didn’t care, her heart—it would always be this fast around Jaime, whether in his arms or not.

“I was going to look for you,” he whispered between kisses.

“You were asleep,” she answered, still kissing him. “I thought to bring you breakfast.”

He smiled against her kisses. “No dessert?”

“Not—“ kiss—“yet.”

She pulled away, putting her hand briefly on his cheek before turning to see to the task of serving him breakfast in bed. As she readied the utensils, Jaime threw himself down on the mattress, laughing as his body bounced. Brienne shook her head. “You’re such a child.”

“This mattress is a lot more springy than the one at the apartment,” Jaime told her, sitting up and resting against the pillows. He took the utensils from her and the plate of food she stretched to him. 

His eyes were soft. “Thank you.”

Now that he had his plate, Brienne sat by his knee, folding her legs up the bed as she did. She held a cup of coffee in one hand and chewed bacon from the other. Jaime sliced a piece off the stack of pancakes and took a bite.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he said, cutting another piece. Noticing she was only eating bacon, he offered her the dripping pancake bit. He grinned when Brienne’s lips opened, her tongue darting out to take it in. 

She was chewing slowly when Jaime suddenly put the plate down beside his legs and leaned to her, drawing her close to him with his hand wrapped around her nape. She giggled as he kissed her, his tongue licking her lips. His eyes were dancing as he pulled back, took the plate back on his lap and continued eating.

“That was better,” he told her playfully.

“Just eat,” she told him. “How’s your head?”

“Much better. Yours?”

“Getting there.”

“Young lady, I told you before that alcohol is an evil, evil thing,” Jaime said with mock sternness.

“Young lady, huh? Is that an acknowledgment of your age, grandpa?”

“Ouch. Grandpa? Really?”

“Old gentleman caller?”

“Old gentleman caller? I’m older but not old, damn it, and I definitely do more than call you.”

Brienne laughed, throwing her head back. It was rare when she managed to rile up Jaime. Her body was still shaking with mirth when she reached for her plate from the nightstand and started eating from it.

They ate quietly, speaking only every now and then. He told her how she snored like an ox. She told him neighed like a horse in between snores. She would look at him in between bites and his eyes narrowed at her, and he whispered that if she kept looking at him like that, they were skipping to dessert. A while later, as he cleared their dishes from the bed and put them back on the tray on the nightstand, she told him she loved him.

She could tell it surprised him. Often, he said it first and she echoed it. He had to tease her quite a bit at times to tell him she loved him when they were within earshot of an audience. So when she told him, seemingly out of the blue, while he was doing what in his book was a truly unsexy task, he stopped and looked at her.

He looked so touched and awed that she thought she was going to cry. 

Brienne took a deep breath and got up. She took him by the hand and steered him to the window seat. 

Despite her hangover, she had a clear memory of last night’s events. Beating up Humphrey Wagstaff. Seeing Gendry after all these years and explaining to him her actions. Her dad. Her dad who couldn’t even call Jaime by name. It brought her a new kind of hurt because she felt powerless about it, she didn’t know what else to do but scream and fight for the man she loved. 

She sat down, pulling Jaime with her. He squeezed her hand in his. She looked at him, this handsome man, so mistrusted, so hated by her father, who loved her completely just for being who she was. How can he not see that? She thought. 

“Last night, Jaime. . .my dad said some awful things,” she began haltingly. His hand in hers was her anchor. She wasn’t going to be taken away if she held him. “Jaime, I’m so sorry for how he’s been towards you. I know you never said anything but I do have an idea, now. I’m so, so angry at him for the things he said, for not seeing you as the good man you are. I _hate_ that he thinks that of you. He told me last night that you will destroy me and I think that’s what did it. That’s why I took off. Because yes, Jaime, I fear that loving you will destroy me— _I’ve given you my heart without even knowing it,_ you’ve _taken_ it from me and I didn’t stop you, I don’t think I can and I know you’re never giving it back. I’m scared of the day you might but I’m even more scared that I’m thinking that because I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t because I know, it is the surest thing in my life, that you love me and will never hurt me like that. I love you so much that sometimes I think it’s too much, I should step back a bit but I can’t. The more I’m with you, the more you’re in my life, _I can’t help but love you more._ ”

The words gushed from her like a violent waterfall, heavily, forcefully. Through it, she held his hand, looked in his eyes, his very green, brilliant eyes that were golden in the sun and warm and tender as they looked at her. She brought his hand to her lips and kissed his knuckles. 

Jaime groaned. _“Brienne.”_

“Jaime, you should know that whatever my father says, I will be with you. I love you, do you hear? _I love you._ ”

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he told her hoarsely, watching her lips press on his knuckles, then turning his hand to kiss his palm. He closed his eyes as the warmth of her mouth touched his hand, soft and sure. Then he opened them and watched as she leaned toward him. He tilted his chin toward her and gave her his lips, the only thing he could offer her right now. Her hands were tight on around his face, hard presses of her fingertips on skin, to the bone. But he kissed her back, parrying at the push of her lips, retaliating with the thrust of her tongue with his. 

“You’re so wonderful,” she told him, dragging her lips away to kiss him on the cheek, the tip of his nose, his left eyelid, forehead, eyebrow. “You’re a good man, Jaime Lannister. No, you’re the best person I know.”

He held her fast as he remembered his own words to her from yesterday. She wound her arms tight around his shoulders. They held each other such that ribs pressed in the narrow hollows between the other’s. He sucked at the skin below her ear.

“That’s more than I’ve ever asked in this life, Brienne, you loving me.”

“I never expected someone like you would love me.”

Jaime put his hand around her nape again and pulled her away, much as he liked having her so close to him, so he could look at her face, in her eyes. For the first time, Brienne welcomed the blush that rose up her cheeks. 

_“I’m exactly the kind of man to love a woman like you,”_ he growled.

She pressed her fingers to his lips, mimicking the first time he had touched her by the water fountain in the hospital. He kissed the tips.

“I’m the only woman who will love a man like you,” she whispered.

“Yes,” he groaned, grabbing her hand and pressing it to his whiskered cheek. “Yes, you should.”

“It really hurts me, Jaime, when people judge you and—“

He shook his head wildly. “Hush. Don’t let yourself get hurt because of me.”

“But I am.”

He sighed and put his forehead against hers. “Well, me too, anyway, if you’re hurt. But I swear to you, Brienne, _I swear to you_ that I will fight all the hurt that comes your way.”

“As will I.”

He kissed her on the lips deeply. 

“Jaime?”

“Yes?”

“ _I want. . .I want. . I want to be with you._ ” 

“You are with me. You’re in my arms. I’m never letting go. I have your heart, remember? Just as you have mine. It’s yours. Only yours.”

“Jaime,” his name was a gentle moan from her lips. He licked her full bottom lip. 

“Jaime, I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” Brienne blurted out, clutching at the collar of his shirt. She held her breath, pulled her face away from him but did not move far enough that he couldn’t keep her in his arms.

Her confession had stunned him. Jaime looked like somebody had punched the living daylights out of him, from the way he was blinking and squinting at her as if he was losing sight of her. Brienne was about to curse herself, she was going to get away from him and she was going to lock herself in some dark room and cry until she had no more tears left when he grabbed her so hard, so suddenly, his head and back slammed against the wall. Brienne’s hands automatically went around his skull, feeling behind it and Jaime grimaced. Biting her lip, she began to lower her hands but he took them by the wrists, gripped them and returned them on the spot where they had just been.

He glared at her. “Never stop touching me, Brienne. Swear it.”

She shook her head. “No, Jaime. I won’t. Unless you want me to.”

He looked aghast. “Never. Count on that, Brienne. I will _never_ ask you to stop touching me. I swear to you.”

She swallowed. “Okay.”

Then he pulled her mouth down to his for a hungry, searching kiss. She answered him with equal fervor, brushing her lips against his, surrenderin her mouth to his bold, determined coaxing. She rocked against him, felt his hardness, felt his heart thundering heavily against her chest. She was sinking into the power of his kiss when he suddenly pulled his head back.

He smiled at her. “Do you remember what I told you after our first night together? When we were having breakfast? When I was telling you that I was bringing you to meet my family and you told me that just because we fucked I wasn’t obligated?”

She nodded.

“I told you we’ll be fucking a lot. No, I think regularly, that’s the word I used, but now, I can say that we fuck a whole damn lot. Anyway, I told you what will happen. Do you remember?”

Her heart raced. He must have felt it because he put his hand right there, the warmth of his touch rendering the thin barrier of her t-shirt non-existent.

“I said at some point that I will fall in love with you. I did. That I’ll need you more than the air I breathe. _Brienne, you are the air I breathe._ And we’ve done things with each other we’ve never done with anyone before. Then I said. . .”

Jaime paused, his grin wide. Brienne glared at him. He laughed, enjoying that he was torturing her but he was also torturing himself.

“I said I’ll ask you to marry me.”

She caught her breath.

“That’s going to happen, Brienne. Not today, I never intend to propose to you still a little hungover. I need a clear head. You too. I certainly don’t want you to think I took advantage of your inebriated state.”

“I’m not inebriated.”

He sniffed her neck and made a face. “I can still smell the tequila on you, though. And maybe vomit. Phoo, some air you are that I breathe.”

She turned a fiery crimson. “I haven’t showered yet.”

“That’s okay. Me neither. I think I smell worse than you do, especially in the pits. But you love me anyway. I think being as you said you will be with me and want to spend the rest of your life with me, that means, I believe, that I can relax a bit with the maintenance and upkeep needed to snag a woman like you. You love me no matter what. That means I can skip the deodorant and the occasional shower, right?”

She rolled her eyes. How could he be joking right now? “How is it that I haven’t put a knife through you yet?”

“But don’t you like my manly smell?” He asked, sounding wounded as he raised his arm. 

Brienne covered her nose.

“Absolutely not.”

“Hah. That’s what you say now. Wait until I put a cub in you. My natural scent will be the best perfume you’ve ever smelled. And your hormones, gods. You’re going to be hornier than you are here in Tarth. You can tie me to bed so you can fuck me whenever and all the time. But you’re going to have to make the time for work, I hate to say. I’ll recover while you work for me and the cub.”

“Oh, so we’re going straightaway to cubs, then?” That wasn’t too bad. A child was a deeper bond than a ring on a finger. Still, her face dropped. Knowing he’d already gone too far, he pulled her to him.

“Nope. I’ll be asking you to marry me. We’re doing this in the right order. That’s going to happen. When, you don’t know. I don’t know. But believe me, Brienne, I am marrying you. And then I’m putting a cub in you. Maybe not right away, maybe right after the honeymoon but yes, my Raspberry Bree, my future _wife,_ I want and I will spend the rest of my life with you.” 

And then he kissed her happily. She kissed him back, whispering again she loved him. That she wished had loved him longer than this life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the series, it's often Jaime who's giving impassioned speeches about how much he loves Brienne. I thought to give her the floor this time.


	19. He's Still the One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After some sexy times, Jaime tries to talk Brienne into doing something she is very resistant to.

Undone, Jaime let out a long, guttural groan. His hips jerked frantically as Brienne took him deep in her throat, moaning as his flavour filled her. Her cheeks hollowed from the force of her kiss, her eyes looking very round and very dark. Jaime had seen her look like this many times but every time still felt like the first and he refused to look away, he would fight to keep looking at her but when she did that last greedy flick at that spot, he was nothing and everything. He closed his eyes at the force of his orgasm.

Brienne swallowed, dabbing the corners of her lips with her knuckles. Jaime lay on his back, still panting. His golden skin was a warm, ruddy color, sweat shone from his forehead and dripped down the long, hard column of his throat and then his chest. She kissed him on his knee, his thigh, his hipbone, making him clench again. She worked her way up to him, mapping his skin with her lips and tongue. When she reached his chest, he pulled her down beside him and kissed her on the forehead.

It was an hour later. They spent some time just kissing and holding each other before she remembered that they had to shower. Jaime’s clothes were thrown to the floor before she was finished talking, and he all but ripped her t-shirt and shorts off her. Then he pulled her to the bathroom, switched on the shower and continued devouring her. She had to remind him, breathlessly, that they had to really clean themselves and not just get wet. Her phrasing had Jaime grinning at her, his eyes glinting and she found herself on her back against the wall, his fingers thrusting in her cunt. “You are wet,” he announced gleefully as she turned a deep tomato. 

She raised her head out of habit, looking for water on the nightstand. Jaime saw this and told her, “We’re not at home, I’m afraid. No water.”  
She returned to his chest but he said, “I’ll go get you a glass.”

She shook her head and held him tight, throwing her leg over his. “Don’t you move.”

His laugh blew at her hair. He wrapped his arms around her back and waist.“Done.”

“Jaime,” she whispered, “is it always going to be like this?”

She looked up at him. Soft blue met cool green.

“I want to say yes,” he told her, “but there will be times when we wouldn’t have time for each other or we’ll fight and can't stand to touch each other. But,” he added, drawing her hand in his and kissing her palm and wrist, “I promise you, every time we have each other, it is going to be like this. And better.”  
“What do you think we’ll fight about?” And at that very moment, she looked so much younger to him. His heart felt too full in his chest.  
Jaime continued kissing random freckles on her wrist as he thought of an answer.

“Maybe I work too much, maybe you work too much. We don’t fuck as much as we used to. I don’t help with the children enough. You ‘re dissatisfied. You don’t seem to want me anymore. I never put you first.I don’t give you the respect you deserve. I hog the pillows. You steal the blankets. I forget to turn off the coffeemaker. You’re disappointed in me. I’m frustrated. You’re angry. I’m angry.”

She kissed him on the throat. _“Jaime.”_

He let her clutch him, her arm heavy on his ribs and threatening to break them. Her breasts were flat against his chest, her nipples tight against the slab of muscle. He tipped her face up to his, kissing her hard. He could still smell and taste himself on her. He liked it. 

“You’ll tell me when I do something wrong,” he told her. “Promise me.”

She nodded.

He shook his head. “Say it.”

“I promise. But only if you also promise to tell me when I do something wrong.” 

“You have my word.”

“I can’t even imagine it. That there will come a time when we won’t talk like this.”

“It will happen but not if we avert it beginning now.”

“What? How?”

He smiled at her lazily. “Don’t stop talking to me, Brienne. Even when you’re so mad you couldn’t form one clear sentence.” He cupped her cheek, the amusement vanishing from his face. "Talk to me even when you can't stand to be in the same room as me."

“What makes you think I’ll be the one to stop talking?” She frowned.

“Face it, I talk more than enough for the both of us. Talking will never be my problem.”

“That is true,” she acquiesced.

“When you talk, I promise to always listen.”

She hummed against his chest.

“I’m not saying things would begin to get bad when we marry, just so you know,” he reassured her.

“No, I never thought.”

“When we’re married, you’re going to be Brienne Lannister. Or you can be Brienne Tarth dash Lannister. Or Brienne Lannister Tarth. Would you like that? I can see it on a sign on your office door. Professor Brienne Lannister Tarth.”

“You want me to have a double-barrelled name?”

“No. You can opt not to change your name. You will still be whoever you choose to be when married to me, that’s what I wanted to let you know.” He resumed kissing her hand. “Or I can change my name to yours. Jaime Lannister Tarth. Jaime Tarth dash Lannister.” 

“I like you as you are, _Jaime Lannister._ ”

“And as I you, _Brienne Tarth._ You’re my favorite person.” He nuzzled his nose against her ear.

“I thought it was Tyrion,” she joked, giggling.

He snorted. “For now. But when you’re a Lannister, you will be my favorite Lannister and person.”

“I don’t think Tywin will let you change your name.”

“No, he won’t. That doesn’t mean I won’t.”

“You really like annoying your father, don’t you?”

“I was put in this world to annoy Tywin Lannister just as I was put here to tease you mercilessly, fuck you oh so heavenly and love you like you’ve never been loved before.”

“People hardly know their purpose in life,” Brienne joked, “good that you know yours so clearly.”

He twisted a short lock of her hair in his finger. It was white in the sun. “With you everything is clear.” 

Brienne slowly pushed herself up. Jaime watched as she put one long leg over his thighs so she was straddling him. Still keeping his eyes on her face, his hand trailed down her firm stomach to the soft, springy tangles of hair shielding her cunt. He gasped as she did when his fingers found her, two sliding easily between the warm, folds, his thumb massaging her clitoris in soft, pressing circles. She was breathtaking to watch, her eyes screwing shut, her hips thrusting hard against his hand, her cunt squeezing his fingers. His cock began to harden, wanting in and deep.  
Her breath was hard and warm against his lips. “Jaime,” she moaned.

Still keeping his fingers moving in her tight warmth in long, easy strokes, he sat up. His other arm went around her back, arching her towards him. She curved toward him with another moan, offering her pale, freckled breasts. Her breath hitched as his beard scraped the softer skin of her breasts. She smelled like vanilla here too, he thought, his tongue tasting a freckle, another and another. By the time he tongued her nipple, it was tight to such an aching point that a violent shudder wracked Brienne’s body. His fingers twisted in her cunt and she let out a wail, planting her short nails deep in the skin of his back.

He shifted, toppling her on the bed. His face tight, he kneed her legs wide apart. He planted his hips between them while his hands dragged her arms to her ears. He continued to taste her breasts as he rubbed himself against her thigh.

“I-I can’t. . .” she told him, her eyes still screwed shut. He raised his head, taking in the deep, red flush from her face to her chest. She was breathing hard, and deeply. Realizing his lips had left her, she opened her eyes.

He nodded. “Watch what I do to you.”

“Jaime, please.”

_“Keep your eyes on me.”_

She nodded weakly and he resumed his sensual torture.

He tasted her everywhere, every inch of her. Who knew having his lips on the insides of her elbows could make her almost jump from the bed? Or her instep so fucking sensitive? Or that her legs could open that wide, that her cunt could get that wet? That her heart would feel light and heavy in her chest at the same time, beating fast and slowly at once. By the time Jaime showed mercy and started to push first the fat head of his cock in her cunt, she was practically weeping.

He leaned toward her as he thrust, stared at her hungrily when he seated himself fully in her. His big hand kept her thick wrists pinned to the bed, above her head while the other led her in a hard dance as old as time, pushing against him as if to throw him off her if not for how tightly he was holding her, how deep his cock was in her. 

In spite of the determined, hard expression on his face, his eyes were tender green flames as they looked at her. Her eyes fell closed and he stopped, making her almost scream in frustration. When she opened them, she groaned that this was too much, she couldn’t take it, she couldn’t, oh Gods.

His whisper was harsh in her ear. _“You will.”_

The springs whined and squeaked as the sudden turn of his thrusts from long and easy to battering, slamming against muscle and bone, slapping against skin. Brienne begged him to kiss her and he obliged, taking her mouth, pushing his tongue past her softened, swollen lips. She kissed him back, struggling to meet the force of his kisses but he held her down and she liked it, she liked it when he held her down, even when she could easily throw him over. 

Jaime’s vision tilted and swirled in a miasma of color when her legs tightened around his waist, her feet at his buttocks pushing him deeper in her. He continue the punishing pace of his hips, never mind that he was so full he was a touch away from bursting. He slipped his hand from her hip to her nipple. Still kissing her lips, he caught the pink bud between thumb and forefinger, pulling then squeezing it. 

Brienne tore her lips away and let out a scream that drowned out his roar.

Both of them panting and slick with sweat, they lay in each other’s arms. Jaime’s weight was cutting off her breath but Brienne continued to hold him with her arms and legs. She kissed the side of his face, shyly pushed a tongue in his ear and he groaned, cupping her breast. He caught her lips in his, meeting it in a soft, sweet kiss that was almost innocent if not for his cock still deep in her, if not for his hands playing with her sensitive nipples.

When he rolled off her, he didn’t move very much. Just enough to pull out of her, lay his head on her chest and fling a leg between her widely sprawled legs. They were too lazy to adjust and move higher on the bed and just let their feet dangle from the edge.

Exhausted, she started to close her eyes, her arms around Jaime when he spoke.

“Brienne.”

“I’m not getting up, Jaime. I still can’t feel my legs.”

He chuckled against her breasts. “Thank you.”

“Ass.”

“ _Your_ ass.”

She slapped him on the shoulder and he yelped.

“I want to sleep.”

“You’ve been really lazy. Sleeping and just fucking me. You're spoiling me with your cunt.”

She was red in nanoseconds.“Are you complaining?”

“Of course not.” Jaime pulled himself up, put his chin on his fist. His fingers were light as they trailed across her breasts, her nipples, her waist. “Brienne, there’s something I have to tell you. It might not be a good time but it has to be said. But know that the things I will be saying come from loving and caring for you, and knowing how stubborn you can be so if you hit me and growl and call me an idiot, I am more than willing to take it. I can take it. _I’m strong enough._ ”

Brienne opened her eyes and looked at him. He looked serious. His hand paused on her stomach, fingers fanned out.

“What is it?” Though she had a feeling what he wanted to talk about.

“It’s your father.”

She bit her lip. _Damn._

“You’re going to be the one to fix it.”

She quickly protested, “But Jaime, the things he said—“

“I know. I know, Brienne. I think I know why he’s like this and it’s a lot more than you bringing me to Tarth and me fucking you as if I’m crazed under his roof. I don’t know if his opinion about me will change. I really don’t know. But I won’t let your relationship with him suffer because of what he thinks about me.”

“How is that possible? Jaime, I hated what he said about you.”

“I understand. If I were in your giant shoes I’d feel exactly the same. But he is your father. And I know it would hurt you, both of you, if this continues. You’re gong to have to be the bigger person, Brienne.”

“But he’s so stubborn and so judging.”

Despite the nature of their discussion, his eyes danced. “Sounds like somebody I know very well.”

“Shut up.”

“You were judging me a lot when we first got together. Of course it upset me. But I cared about you and willingly bumped heads with you to prove you wrong. Not just heads but also pelvises.” Switching back to serious mood, he said, “You’re going to have to be patient with Selwyn. You’re going to have to be more understanding and find it within yourself to not leap to my defense—“

“ _What?_ That is unthinkable—“

“—because _I can_ hold my own against him. Let me deal with what he thinks of me. Do not hurt your relationship with him because of me.” He reached for her hand and kissed her palm. “Please, Brienne.”

But she was shaking her head. “ _How_ could you ask me to willingly step away—to not fight for you?”

“Because I love you,” he said simply. “It’s because of that, Brienne. I love you. Let me take the brunt of it. Don’t you believe in me?”

“I do, gods, you know I do and you’re stronger than you think—“

“So.” He said, inclining his head as if things were settled.

“No, Jaime. Think of what you ask of me.”

“I have. _I know._ ”

“ _Please don’t ask me this,_ ” she pleaded with him. “Don’t ask me to not fight for you.”

“Brienne, it’s because I know you have fought and will still fight for me why I’m asking you to bow out. You can’t go on like this with you father. I won’t let you. I love you too much to let that happen. Give me this, _please._ ”

“Not this.”

Jaime hated to play the next card. “I thought you loved me.”

“Of course I do—“

“I thought you believed in me—“

“I do!”

“Then as much as it displeases you, I ask you, please know that I don’t ask this so lightly, begging you, to fix things with your father. Whether he will like me eventually or not, as long as you two are alright, I will be alright. I swear to you. We can’t have this hanging over us, Brienne. We’re good now but for how long? And you will hate me.”

Her eyes flashed. “Never.”

“I believe you. But I’d rather Selwyn Tarth hate me until the Stranger comes than live with you hating me. I can tell you for sure that’s where we’re headed if we don’t make this sacrifice.” 

His jaw was set tight but Brienne told him, “Let me think about it.”

“No. Say yes.” He was a lot more stubborn than her.

“ _Jaime!_ ”

“ _Brienne._ ” He said through gritted teeth. 

Speaking firmly, one that left no room for doubt, he said, “You will ask me to do things and I’d be as stubborn as you are, angrier than you are but because it’s important to you, much as I loathe it, _I will do it._ Because you asked me. _Because it matters to you._ What’s important to you is important to me. You asked me because you trust me enough. And I love you. _I love you and I will do things that will give me nightmares as long as you ask me to._ Because I know what it will take you to ask me.” He took a deep breath. “Now. Will you fix things with your father before we leave?”

"No, I won't."

"I'm right. I know it and _you_ know it."

Brienne looked at him and sighed, her shoulders dropping. 

“Do you promise?”

Her chin jutted in defiance.

“Brienne," he warned. 

“ _The things you ask of me, Jaime!_ ”

“Would you rather I ordered you? Commanded you? Because if that's what will make you do it, I will."

She closed her eyes, thinking hard. Jaime watched her until she opened them. 

“I don’t know whether to hit you or kiss you.”

His smile was triumphant and arrogant. “Spank me anytime you’re feeling kinky, Brienne. But always, _always_ kiss me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The things I do for love."
> 
> That is all.


	20. It All Comes Down to Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne post-oath. Some angst from Jaime and Selwyn.

It was noon by the time the couple felt they were revived enough to get vertical and rejoin the world. A tensed silence had descended on them after Jaime extracted a promise from Brienne. Each knew the difficulty of what the other had asked for but, Brienne, who hated it that _of course_ , Jaime was right, just grew a lot more stubborn as the minutes ticked by. She kept her mouth shut, she had already made the vow.

And wondered what else they will be asking of each other a long time from now. If she was always going to be this resistant. If she was always going to do a he’d asked, no matter how much she hated it and was torn between pummelling his beautiful face or bestowing kiss upon kiss on it.  
When the scrunched, curled expression on her face cleared, which Jaime thought made her a lot more unpleasant to look at but he couldn’t and didn’t want to look away from her, she turned to him. He quickly opened his arm and hugged her in relief as she returned to that nook between his arm and chest. She sighed, reminding him once again of what he had basically demanded from her. With Brienne, he was slowly beginning to learn, you could ask but if she was going to go with her very strong opinions, you had no other option but to demand she do it. He hated he had to resort to that but he had little choice. He wouldn’t let himself be the wedge to drive father and daughter apart. He knew too well what having a distant parent was like. He rubbed soothing circles on her back, drew her leg over his hip. She put an arm around his chest when he began brushing his lips on her forehead, whispering he loved her over and over again.

They napped again, still exhausted from the night before and their earlier exertions. Jaime woke up first this time, sprawled heavily on his stomach, his cheek smooshed on the pillow a little numb yet sweaty from the brilliant, white sun of a day approaching its next half. As he slowly came awake, it became clear that Brienne was sound asleep and was half on top of him. It was her weight that was pushing him deeper into the mattress with her every breath.

He could just lay there and fall asleep again but his mind and body were too alert now. And another part of his body was rising to full wakefulness. Groaning, he tried to slide out of her body. He liked her on top of him, he liked that her kisses, moans, her legs tight around him could kill him. But not like this. If she was going to lay so heavily like this, the better scenario would be him facing her. 

“Brienne,” he grunted. Clearing his throat, he called her again.

“Um.”

“You’re crushing me.”

Maddeningly, she just sighed and put her leg over his calves.

"If you're still furious I can think of a much better way of dealing with it than killing me." 

She didn't move.

“Seriously. If the next few moments are my last, I want my cock in your cunt, not a fucking mattress. Come on,” he groaned. 

“Oh,” she said, sounding awake and shocked. Quickly, she rolled off him. “Sorry.”

Jaime winced as he pushed himself up and threw his legs to the side. He looked at her over his shoulder. Her eyes were wide with concern, her cheeks the color of pinking strawberries. He patted her leg reassuringly, squeezed the toned muscle and launched himself to his feet. Naked, he walked across her room, looking like he very much he belonged in the light with the way the sun caressed his skin, falling right on the ripple and bulge of muscle. 

A god yet always too human, Brienne thought, sitting up. She reached for the blanket crumpled at the edge of the bed and wrapped it around her. Hearing the rustle of fabric, he glanced at her, eyebrow raised.

“You cover yourself now after I’ve worshipped your body for half a day?”

“No, it’s not that,” Brienne answered. She looked at her toes and she was a deeper shade of red. “It’s just that. . .we’ve fucked half the day away.”

He went to the closet. She had convinced him earlier that they had to stop living out of their suitcases when she had enough closet space for them. He slid open the door and pulled out some clothes. He grinned as Brienne’s face flared even more as she watched him tuck his erection in his boxers.

“I agree. Some impression I must be making to your family,” he joked.

“Oh, fuck the Seven,” Brienne moaned. “They’re going to know.”

He laughed. “That what? We fuck? I think it would surprise them if we _don’t_ fuck.”

“You know what I mean. Would you fuck me in Casterly Rock?”

“Sure. But we’re going to do it fast and quiet because Tywin still believes people should save themselves for marriage.”

This made her laugh. “Tywin thinks you’re a virgin?”

“He expects me to practice but not as much as Tyrion. He expects you to be a virgin.”

“Fuck me,” she said, shaking her head. “He’s worse than my father. Sorry.”

“Tywin tends to be worse than other people. He is my father but I do see him for what he is.” Jaime pulled on khaki shorts and a green polo shirt that brought out the emerald shine of his eyes. Noticing her still abed, he commanded, “Let’s go , Brienne.”

“We can go surfing or drive around Tarth. Or we can rent motorbikes from Uncle Endrew and see some of these trails—“

Jaime shook his head. “No surfing, I don’t think I can handle that despite feeling better. And with regard to motorbikes, I don’t trust myself behind one right now either. Sorry. Is that what you want to do?”

Brienne shook her head. “I’ll be fine with them but I’m not really up to either as well. We can go to the beach and just hang out—“

“Which we can do here, be naked and fuck. We just did that.”

“Jaime Lannister,” she widened her eyes in mock shock, a hand on her heart, “are you telling me fucking _bores_ you?”

“Fucking you will _never_ be boring. But after spending half the day in bed, I’m restless. Not that I’ll be saying yes to extreme sports, if that’s what you have in mind. No parasailing.”

Brienne was amused. “You’re strapped on a boat and thrust high in the air and you just have a bird’s eye view of Tarth from the ocean. Goodness, Jaime, you’re showing your age.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Of course I do. But it’s so rare when I can tease you.”

“You tease me all the time with your stunning eyes, your smile, your legs and your freckles.” Then adopting a pained expression, he said solemnly, “I’m trying to show you I’m more than my cock.” 

“You really are impossible.”

“You love me impossible.”

Brienne rolled her eyes, indicating she still remembered what’s he asked of her. “Oh! I know. There’s this great dive bar—not the one I went to last night—it’s a bit further off. But they serve the sweetest, fattest crabs, plumpest prawns. . .”

Jaime licked his lips, imagining the feast. “Oh, yeah. That I like.”

“Then afterward we can just go for a walk or whatever. I’ll take you down memory lane but there’s hardly any flat surface in Tarth where I didn’t fall flat on my face or completely embarrassed myself.”

She was joking but Jaime cupped her by the cheek. A gentle smile lit up her face at the tender touch. He kissed her, lightly, too quickly because he pulled away. 

“Or we can come back here and you talk to your father.”

Sapphire flashed against emerald.“Jaime, you just asked me to do something that’s the exact opposite of what I believe in when you love someone. Don’t nag me and schedule it for me, please.”

“Fine. I understand. I know you’ll keep your word.”

“Under very loud protest.”

“Under very loud protest.” He kissed her again. “Get dressed, I’ll wait for you downstairs.”

 

 

With Brienne still getting dressed, Jaime decided to go for a quick walk just around the garden the living room was opened to. A cool breeze drifted, once again reminding him that summer in Westeros was sweltering and sticky while Tarth, though warm, had a nice gust of winds from the ocean. 

As he walked, slowly shuffling his feet against the lawn, head bowed and hands in the pockets of his shorts, his thoughts were in the promise he had all but forced Brienne to make. He didn’t like making her do something she didn’t want but it was necessary. Brienne always groaned how impulsive he was, leaping into action without thinking of the consequences. Jaime learned in the past eight months he had been with her that she also a streak of the daredevil in her. Most of the time she listed pros and cons in neat columns but when it came to matters of the heart, she reacted out of pure instinct and threw herself into the fray like the lioness she was. A protective lioness, he thought, humbled and touched at the same time that she was like this when it came to people hurting him. Even if one of them was her father.

Most men would be emboldened in the relationship knowing their woman chose them over a parent or a resistant relative whose authority she respected. Jaime admitted it was nice that someone would fight for him but he knew the risks of her choosing him over a much-loved father. One of Brienne’s best qualities was loyalty but it could also be her undoing and ultimately, theirs.

He had learned that when she loved and cared for someone, she was quick to throw herself right in the path of anyone wishing them ill. Renly had told him that Brienne had confronted his father about forcing him to take over Baratheon Vineyards. Cersei also shared with him that she began to look forward to Friday dinners at Casterly Rock because she had another cheerleader in Brienne—although that was unintentional on Brienne’s part. Her loyatyl rivalled the strength of Valyrian steel that even if it was already detrimental, she still clung to it. She was like the goddamn knights he read about as a child, who put oaths, duty and honor above all, no matter what. Jaime didn’t want their relationship to ever reach the point where she was only with him because loyalty was all she had for him. He wanted her love. 

He began to circle back to the house, his strides still slow. For the rest of his life, Aerys Targaryen would haunt him. Never mind if I’m the one who ended up with a knife at my back, he thought, staring up at the sky and thinking how the blue expanse paled in comparison to Brienne’s eyes. His thoughts veered to his family, reviled to such an extent that when Daenerys Storm-Born took back Westeros she sought to remove all traces of it. Lannisters were notorious oath-breakers, a rich clan with no honor to speak of. He may not have come from the same line as Tyrion the Wise, who turned away from his Lannister roots to assume the Targaryen name and thus killed all that remained of House Lannister of Casterly Rock, but he was still a Lannister. History may have been swiped but the people never forgot. Because he was born in that family, he was, by association, by blood, shady, unscrupulous, with no loyalties, no honor, never to be trusted. 

It didn’t help that Tywin fanned that notoriety. He remembered the argument that nearly ripped their family apart during a government investigation in one of their companies. Tyrion, Cersei and Jaime had argued that Tywin should launch his own investigation of the company lest evidence were planted that he had been fully aware of the illegal arms dealing. Tywin Lannister saw this as an opportunity to remind people of the power of the Lannister name. He believed that the government suspecting he played both sides showed that society was still wary and he saw no reason to change that perception. “People should be reminded of the mighty roar of the lion, that he is never quiet,” he pointed out. 

This was a period of great schism within their family. Tywin’s children distanced themselves away from him, unable to comprehend the damned fucking arrogance of the man. It wasn’t something Tywin had entirely forgiven. He threatened to cut them off and disown them. Tyrion buried himself further in his research, getting enough scholarship grants to fund himself, Cersei threw herself into proving she much deserved that coveted spot in med school as anyone else and for a time, Tyrion and Jaime took care of her tuition and other expenses.

And Jaime. . .Jaime began to imagine a life far from Tywin Lannister, where he was known by his own name, by what he had done and could do.  
It was Tywin who caved and did as Tyrion demanded, coming upon the same answers as the government did. Then he caved again by emphasizing to his children that in ensuring a legacy, touch choices had to be made. If they continued to distance themselves from him, they will further ensure the legacy of betrayal their names was known for, an easier choice. “Wouldn’t it be much harder still being with your father?” He told them. He had schooled them that he was master of this game.

“Jaime.” 

He looked up and there she was, lit in the sun, for the first time looking girlish in spite of her frame and her muscles. It was her eyes and her smile, he thought. Those eyes that always saw him for the man he was and rather than looking away, looked even closer. Her smile, always shy, its warmth jumping to her eyes. There were no games with Brienne, he thought, walking to her. Only love. It was their beginning and where everything else will be coming from. 

 

 

From the window of his study, Selwyn Tarth watched as Brienne and Jaime walked towards each other. They held hands once close enough, with Jaime kissing her palm. Their heights closely matched though Brienne was taller and broader of the two. Yet, when she lowered her head to whisper something in Jaime’s ear, the . his hand on her waist touched her as if she was fine silk, or fragile glass. 

It was a private, tender moment between a couple, his daughter, yet Selwyn couldn’t stop staring at them. Brienne straightened up and looked into Jaime’s eyes. Then they were walking away, their heads still inclined to each other. Selwyn waited until they disappeared behind the corner of the house before he turned away. 

As he sat behind his desk, he stared at the photograph of Arianne. He had taken it at just the precise moment she turned to look at him. He couldn’t remember what they were doing, only that he had a camera and he thought to take her photo. It became his favorite shot.  
Arianne’s hair was blowing in the wind, a few flitting across her forehead, her nose, her lips. Her gray eyes squinted from the force of the wind. She possessed a too-gentle loveliness that wasn’t immediately seen but she had a light in her. She could enter any room and make it brighter, and shy as she was, with a tendency to look at her feet when talking, her blushes rising and spreading in her cheeks and across, people were still drawn to her. 

Straitlaced Selwyn was drawn to that inner glow. Of course he found her eyes beautiful, they were round and big but because she always aimed them at her shoes, it probably took people a while to appreciate them. He had fallen the moment those eyes found his. If Selwyn were to pick a moment when his life began, that was it, when Arianne’s gaze met his. 

She was soft-spoken, with a deep, husky voice. She wasn’t comfortable with attention or too many people but when it was just the two of them, her voice was clearer and she spent less time talking to her shoes. He would find out later that she a bit of a rebel in her. Once, during a picnic by a waterfall, Arianne thought to jump in. Selwyn thought he’d lost her until she surged out of the water, graceful as a mermaid, her laughter reaching the sky. Then she dared him, telling him that a big, soldier guy such as himself couldn’t be _scared_ of water, couldn’t be topped by a mere slip of a _girl._ He yelled at her that she wasn’t that much of a girl anymore and she was too tall to be considered one. She rolled her eyes and shouted at him to shut up and just jump.

Arianne liked saying that, to him, to his brothers. Because she blushed easily, Galladon, Endrew and Duncan relished teasing her. Selwyn thought to step back when this happened because Arianne could hold her own against them, grunting at them to stop being idiots and just shut up. She didn’t know that, while romantically, his brothers weren’t interested in her, they were drawn to her, even enthralled. When her heart beat for the last time, it was only long enough for her to see Brienne held to her, screaming and squirming. “My Brienne,” she whispered. She died with a smile.  
Selwyn never resented his daughter but he couldn’t be around her and not think of her mother. He felt inadequate, a failure the few times he was with Brienne when she was growing up. When she was older, that was when he started to stay longer but he needed the army more than ever. He still felt that he’d wronged her by not fighting harder to keep Arianne alive. The routine of the army and missions kept his thoughts away from that. Only in the last moments of sleep did he think of Brienne, of Arianne. 

They’re in love. They’re happy, his brothers had told him, repeatedly, for weeks until this morning. He saw that. From the first time he laid eyes on Jaime Lannister, he saw how the man looked at his daughter as if he wanted to lay the world at her feet. Yet there was a part of him, an important part that clawed from the inside at the idea that his daughter had picked a man such as Jaime Lannister. Untrustworthy. Family of oath-breakers. He worried for the good heart of his daughter being trampled by lions and eaten.

These thoughts followed Selwyn throughout the day as he oversaw the business of running an efficient household. As evening began to spread across the sky and he found himself in his study once again, he turned away from the papers at his desk and rubbed his eyes. He had them closed, resting them when a firm knock reached his door.

“It’s open,” he said, opening his eyes. He turned his chair around to face his visitor. His eyes, tired and heavy, cleared as he stared at the person standing by the door, who was steadfast and unflinching at the ice of the Evenstar. 

“If you could give me a few minutes of your time, sir,” Jaime Lannister said.


	21. Uncle Gal and Little Bree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uncle Galladon and Brienne talk

After having one of the best meals of her life and spending the rest of the day in the sun with Jaime, Brienne felt that she was truly on vacation at last when she sailed to the kitchen upon coming home. Jaime had gone off to make a phone call to Bronn Stokeworth, one of his partners at LSM Creatives. As it went before they would part, he took her face in both hands and kissed her on the lips. Brienne didn’t know if the high that followed her through the hallway came from being out in the sun, happy, or a short, sweet kiss from Jaime was really all it took for her to see good in everything and everyone.

“Hey, Uncle Gal,” she called out to him as she entered the kitchen. 

“Little Bree,” Uncle Galladon said. He was at the sink, rinsing tomatoes. Brienne walked to him, peered over his shoulder and asked, “Hmm. Are we having pasta tonight?”

“Of course. It’s your favorite.”

Brienne beamed. Her favorite meal of all time was spaghetti with fresh, homemade tomato sauce. Uncle Galladon’s tomato sauce took a couple of hours to make, which Brienne had never replicated but hoped someday she will. If she couldn’t make it as good, she hoped she could at least know how to make it and hopefully improve.

“Can I help?”

“You can chop up the garlic, onions and carrots,” Uncle Galladon said after a bit.

Brienne got to work. She got a peeler and started working on the carrots, handling the instrument deftly and lightly. She worked through a small stack of carrots before turning her attention to the garlic.

Uncle and niece worked quietly. Tarths were not known for being talkative and were comfortable with silence. Neither felt the need to fill it with an awkward attempt at conversation or music. As Brienne finished with the garlic, Uncle Galladon put the pasta in the boiling water in the pot, pressing them down gently so they were completely submerged.

Growing up, Brienne liked to spend time with Uncle Galladon the best. She loved all her uncles equally but Uncle Gal was her favorite. He read to her when she was younger, even did it in the voices of the characters for the night’s story. He was the one she spoke to about being recruited by University of Braavos and King’s Landing University-Westeros for their volleyball team. Her whole life, she’d always thought of going to Braavos when KLUW made an offer. What was she to do now? Uncle Gal was the one who told her to go with her heart and follow her dream. So she stuck to her original plan. 

Her uncles filled in her father’s absence but neither Endrew nor Duncan was as determined as Uncle Gal. He sighed with her over geometry, he scratched his head at physics. This behaviour might disappoint a child but not Brienne. It helped that there was an adult who didn’t know as much as she thought and it was okay. Uncle Duncan would take over tutoring her on those difficult subjects. He was patient too but methodical and precise—two things Brienne had to learn from him lest she become frustrated with not succeeding right away.

Uncle Galladon was simply the easiest person to be around, maybe. Uncle Drew was quite a big personality, robust and animated, Uncle Dunk too quiet, too observant. Uncle Galladon knew when to speak and when to leave her alone. He asked her no questions when she showed up at the doorstep of Evenfall Hall the weekend after sleeping with Gendry, only knew that she needed someplace familiar and safe and to be left alone. He was the first person she called when her knee injury ended her collegiate athletic career. When she started going out with Jaime, he was the one she told first. 

It was wrong but sometimes, she wished he had been her father. What was Shae’s words? Like a daughter. 

Selwyn was a good man, a good father, but sometimes he seemed to forget that he wasn’t commanding an army but raising a daughter. He instilled in her the value of order, discipline, of keeping busy. He didn’t like people who lay around all day who did nothing. Brienne knew that was one of his impressions about Jaime.

She opened a bottle of Valyrian beer for Uncle Galladon while he tossed the garlic and onions in an oiled pot. The carrots followed next. The kitchen was warm with the aroma of spices and salt, another thing she had missed. Brienne whiffed appreciatively while she handed the beer to Uncle Gal. He took a short pull before setting it down on the counter. He grinned at her then worked on the tomatoes next.

When it was slowly cooking, he turned and finished the beer. He sat on a stool across from Brienne, who looked at him.

“So, what do you think of Jaime?”

“Your father doesn’t like him.”

Brienne sighed. “I know.”

“He’s just trying to be protective, I think, and fucking it up,” Uncle Galladon told her with a shrug. “Told him you’re happy and he should be happy about that.”

“Dad doesn’t like to be told. You know that.”

“Don’t I,” Uncle Galladon agreed with a sigh.

“Aside from that, what else can you say about Jaime?”

“He loves you.”

Blushing, she said, “I mean, do you like him, Uncle Gal?”

“Of course I do. The kid loves my niece. He has a stable job. He comes from a, uh, well, a family of a. . .ah..” He suddenly slapped his palm down the granite counter. “A historical family. Indeed. He comes from a historical family. Brienne, what matters is you. What do you think of Jaime Lannister?”

Could her face get any redder? “I’m happy with him.”

“That’s something your father will have to work on.”

“We’ll be staying here for five more days, Uncle Gal. This is supposed to a vacation,” Brienne complained. “I told Jaime how great Dad is. Since we’ve arrived it’s like walking around landmines with Dad being an ass—sorry, oh gods.”

“Ah, Brienne, we taught you to curse, come now,” he chided her, pride bright in his blue eyes.

“I just wish there’s something I can do for him to know Jaime’s not the person he thinks.”

“The thing about my brother is this. Once he holds on to something, he doesn’t let go. Only an act of the Seven, who knows, a gods damn catastrophe could shake him off a teeny bit.”

“What does that mean? That this is how things will be?”

“You have to prepare yourself for that. But who knows? Maybe I’m wrong. For your sakes I hope I am.”

“I just wish there was something I could do!” Brienne exclaimed, frustrated.

“You’re as stubborn as he is,” Uncle Galladon said. She glared at him and his hands shot up in surrender. “I say that with love, Little Bree.”  
“I may be as stubborn but I’m not as unreasonable.”

“That’s your mother in you. She was shy, it took a while for her to open up, but she knew how to keep Selwyn in line.”

“Uncle Gal?” Brienne asked.

“Hmm?”

“Does. . .” She took a deep breath and began to ask the question that had haunted her her whole life. “Does Dad hate—“

“Don’t finish that sentence, Brienne. I’ll tell you it’s not true. You know it’s not true,” Uncle Galladon told her firmly. “What brought this on?”

“Well, how can I not think that? If he can’t accept my happiness.”

“He’s really only been with you the last few years, Little Bree. And now you’ve got a lion who’s clearly marked you as his territory—“

“Eww, Uncle Gal!"

“I’m saying it wrong but it’s true, isn’t it? This thing with you and Jaime it’s real. And I’m glad, nay, happy for you, Brienne. You didn’t have the easiest life—the Seven knows your uncles and I tried to do as well as we could—“

“You did!” Brienne nodded. “Better than you think. Uncle, I am who I am because of you.”

His smile was from ear to ear. “And we couldn’t be prouder.”

“I love Jaime, Uncle Gal. There will be no one else for me,” She told him quietly.

“Then let’s hope your dad sees your happiness at some point,” Uncle Galladon said. He reached out and patted her awkwardly on the shoulder. “You know how he is, Brienne. Don’t worry so much. He’ll come around. It’s going to take a lot of patience but Selwyn will come around. I promise you. He loves you, that’s why.” 

When Uncle Galladon rose to check on his cooking, Brienne allowed herself a little hope. For when had Uncle Galladon broken any of his promises to her?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now we know why Andrew Galladon (one of Jaime and Brienne's twins in Hear Them Roar!) is named after Uncle Galladon. He's Brienne's favorite uncle! And of course, Jeremy Tyrion is because Tyrion's Jaime's favorite sibling.


	22. Vows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime faces Selwyn.

The two men stared at each other for a full minute before Selwyn nodded. Jaime closed the door behind him and walked to the desk. From behind Selwyn was a huge window that looked out to the gardens. It was flanked by a wall on one side that displayed his photos with important military and government people, and a shelf filled with medals. 

Jaime stood next to the chair leaning against the desk. “May I sit down?”

“If you must.”

“I’m afraid we have quite to talk about,” Jaime said, sitting down. “So yes. I must.”

He looked at the young man sitting in front of him. Messy hair brushing his shoulders. A scruff that could use a trim or be shaved off completely. A bland expression on his face that Selwyn did not trust one second. 

“What do you want from me, Lannister?” Selwyn believed in getting right to the point. “Have you come here to ask my blessing?”

“I think before we do that we have to get things out of the way first.”

“You, you mean?”

If Jaime was stung, he didn’t show it. Selwyn’s resolved against him wavered slightly to admiration. Damn the gods, he thought.

“Do you really want to know my answer to that?”

“You’re bold, Lannister. Arrogant, too confident, too sure of yourself. How my daughter lives with your ego is beyond me.”

Despite looking tensed earlier, Jaime still managed to smile. “She lives just fine with it. It takes some adjusting with those legs of hers but. We fit together very well.” 

“The Seven damn you, Lannister.”

“Your daughter finds me infuriating too.”

“Again. What the hell do you want from me?”

“I came here to answer any and all questions you have about me, my relationship with your daughter and my family. Even if it takes the entire night and longer. Then after I’ve given my answers I would appreciate for the subject never be raised again..”

“Why would you presume I had nothing better to do?”

“There’s only so many trees you can hollow out, sir. Based on the schedule I saw on the fridge, it’s Uncle Gal’s turn to cook. So we have time.”  
“Why would I want to know anything about you or your family?”

“Wouldn’t you want to know the kind of man your daughter has brought under your roof?”

 

Selwyn was silent.

“I don’t expect you to like me after this, sir,” Jaime said. “But I do hope that you’ll know me better.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because I care for your daughter,” Jaime’s answer was swift. “Because your relationship with her is important. . .to me.”

“Why would you care, Lannister?” Selwyn was looking at him suspiciously. “I thought lions never cared for the opinions of sheep.”

Jaime’s face warmed. “My family bandies that about, it’s true.”

“Wouldn’t you like it better if my daughter hates me? She will choose you, you know.”

“I know. Hence, why I’m here.”

Selwyn frowned. “You think to change my mind?”

“Never. Just think of this as. . .an opportunity to have a clearer picture of the other. No commitment. But if it would put your mind at ease, then good. That’s better than I could hope for.”

Selwyn looked at him. He leaned back against his chair, his eyes never leaving the Lannister cub.

“Why are you with my daughter.”

“I love her.”

“Really?” Selwyn remarked coolly. “But my daughter only comes from a family whose history could be traced farther than you can imagine. She is smart, hard-working but I guess I must say it shouldn’t I? She’s from a minor house and she is no great beauty.”

Jaime’s eyes flashed. “Brienne is a lot more than those things. You surprise me, sir, to lump me with others who never see beyond the surface. I’m not a deep man, I’m certainly not contemplative. But trust that I see and know Brienne is a lot more than you believe.”

Damn the gods. First blood, Selwyn thought.

“How involved are you with your father?”

“In what way do you mean? Do I think father knows best? Definitely not. Is it about our strained relationship? Because it is. My brother, sister and I have a difficult relationship, to say the least, with one Tywin Lannister.”

“What about Red Industries?”

“I am not involved nor connected in any business under or within Lannister Conglomerate. It only goes as far as my name but I sign nothing, I get nothing and I do nothing for the company. If this is about the scandal, my father had nothing to do with it. Believe me. Neither did I nor any of my siblings. Is this why you are so welcoming to me?” Jaime wondered aloud, drily.

“It was my team that discovered the leak,” Selwyn said.

“Then you have my gratitude.”

“I don’t need it.”

“No, you don’t. But I thought to say it, anyway.”

“You haven’t really answered my other question. Why are you with my daughter? You love her? Why don’t I believe you?”

Jaime looked grim. “Because you don’t think I’m capable of loving someone like Brienne. Or you think me unworthy of her. I already told you. I know just how unworthy I am. The tabloids have painted my name redder than that of my family’s. You know I’ve done things. Betrayed people. I don’t always pursue the right course of action, I act too impulsively. I don’t deserve her. She needs and deserves a better man. But I won’t let there be another man, even if he were better, unless she leaves me.”

“But you love her, you say,” Selwyn scoffed. “Why let her go?”

“Why should that stop her from pursuing her happiness?”

“Why not fight for her? Make her see you are the only one for her?”

“Sir, I will fight for your daughter. Never doubt that. But I would never make her see nor force her to do anything she doesn’t want. If the day comes when she doesn’t want me anymore—“Jaime’s voice cracked but he continued, harshly—“much as I would hate it, knowing it would be my end, I’d bow out. Because if she can’t be happy with me, I would much rather have her happy elsewhere. Not an ideal situation but know that her happiness comes first with me. No matter what.” Jaime met his stare, a cold glint of green boring hard against a wall of blue. “I swear to you, she comes first.”  
“But why are you here? Why join her? You say you’re here so I can know you better but you and I know that isn’t all. Spit it out, Lannister. I thought you’re a lion. Instead you’re buzzing around like a directionless bee, or maybe you’re a crow circling me, just waiting for me to drop dead.”

For the first time since meeting him, Selwyn had rendered Jaime speechless. Jaime looked at his hands on his lap, deep in thought. He looked to be a man debating with himself about something truly important. Selwyn rolled his eyes impatiently.

“Out with it, young man. What do you want from me? Why does it concern you so much what I think of you?”

Jaime raised his head. “It doesn't matter what you think of me."

"Of course it does."

"The truth," Selwyn demanded again.

"How many times must I say it? I love your daughter.”

“Love is a word thrown about too recklessly, Lannister. You’re going to have to do better.”

Jaime didn’t miss his emphasis on the last word.

“It’s the day I’ve come to regret,” Selwyn said softly, his eyes softening. The fierce expression on his face softened and suddenly, Jaime saw all the lines there, the scar that ran from his ear down to the corner of his strong jaw. 

“I will never take your daughter away from you.”

“She has already left me, Jaime.”

Jaime inhaled sharply at the first time Selwyn had called him by name.

“I returned too late,” Selwyn murmured to himself, yet his voice easily reached Jaime’s ears. “I stayed away far too long, deluding myself it was the best choice. But it’s too late. She was formed and already herself by the time I thought to return. I had nothing to do with how she is. I thought there will always be time but no. It’s too late.”

“No it’s not. She loves you.”

“Yes. I know.”

Suddenly, Selwyn looked tired.

“The last time I was truly alive was when Arianne was still with me,” he said. He knew her gone, too well, but he couldn't, that word that described what she was now--he still couldn't say it.“Since then, it’s been a battle. Arianne took everything that I was with her when she died.”

“She did not. You still have your daughter.”

“Whom you’re taking away.”

Jaime, once again, had no words to say.

“Tell me what it is you’ve come seeking me out for. The truth, Jaime.”

Jaime took a deep breath. “General Selwyn Tarth, I swear to you that even when the Stranger comes for me, I will fight and never leave Brienne’s side. I aim to only give her happiness. I fully intend to support, welcome, honor and respect her, along with loving her, loving only her. I am not the best of men. You and I know that. But I have a shot at becoming a better man with Brienne. It’s one of the reasons why I love her. She makes me want to be a better man. I intend to live a life with her, sir. _I need her._ She needs me too. I'm selfish, I need her more than she will ever need me. I hope for your blessing as I will be asking her hand in marriage. But you should also know that if I don’t get your blessing, I am still marrying her. In that I won’t let you get in the way, of my happiness, of my very reason for living.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mainly dialogue, if you noticed. Maybe Selwyn could have made Jaime do something physical, like hollow out a tree into a canoe like he does, but that won't prove anything to him.


	23. Insatiable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut, fluff, angst, and sweetness.

The next few days flew fast. Brienne took Jaime to her old high school. Since it was summer, there were only a few students—the unlucky stuck to make up for classes they fucked up the previous semester. It was late afternoon when they arrived. The students, dead in the eyes as they walked to their classes, were alive once again as they left, eager to put behind today's lessons. 

As they strolled hand in hand in the hallway, holding hands, Jaime told her that he’d never made out by a locker before. Brienne got all red and giggly when he pulled her towards a locker, positioned her so she was leaning against it, and kissed her. Her laugh was swallowed in his kiss, a deep, consuming press of lips and mouth and tongue against each other. When his hand reached down for her backside, she whispered heatedly that if they were in high school, a teacher wouldn’t let him get that far.  
/p>

“That’s the great thing about empty school hallways,” Jaime told her between kisses, his other hand lowering to cup her right butt cheek through her pants. He squeezed. “We can go as far as we want.”

He pulled his head back a little, a small grin on his face while she reddened some more. She shook her head. “I’m not having sex with you here.” Her tone told him this would not be questioned.  


He groaned, his hand cupping the back of her head as he pressed her deeper against the cold row of lockers. She shivered from the heat of his body and the chill at her back. “Where can you have sex with me here?” He asked, running his teeth lightly across her bottom lip. Brienne’s toes curled in her sneakers.

“Jaime—“she started to protest but he kissed her again.

“When we visit next time,” he told her, pressing his erection against her thigh, squeezing his eyes closed at the frisson of pleasure that shot through him. He rocked his hips against her. "We’re coming back here and you’ll only have the best memories.” He sucked at the skin of her collarbone bared by the scooped neckline of her white top. “Would you like that?” His last question was a moan against her ear as she slipped a hand under his shirt and caressed the firm stretch of skin and muscle of his back.

“But. . .” Brienne frowned, struggling to form one coherent thought. Jaime Lannister should patent his kisses, she thought, her forehead scrunching even more when he slipped the strap of her tank off a shoulder and nipped at the exposed skin. Or maybe not. He’s mine, all mine. She threaded her fingers through his thick, golden hair. “Jaime. . .I. . .we’ll get caught.”

“Um. We’ve never done that.”  


“ _No._ ”

His eyes flashed.“Spoilsport.”

“Cock-brain.”

“For you,” he cupped her face and took her mouth in his again. “Gods, Brienne. Only for you.”

Then he dropped one hand.

He found the heated juncture between her thighs and cupped her.

Brienne’s s squawk echoed in the hall. He quickly smothered it with a kiss.

“Hush or we will get caught.”

She shook her head. “Not here. Not out like this. Jaime, _oh. . .oh..._ ” Her head fell back as he unbuttoned her pants and his hand slid in. He growled when he found cotton before wet curls and warm folds. 

“I thought you were ditching underwear.” He roughly yanked at the front panel aside but his fingers were gentle as they flicked at her clit before sliding in her moist, warm folds. He smirked as her eyes rolled to the back of her head and a moan slid past her lips. Warmth danced and swirled in her stomach, a hundred butterflies doing pirouettes and and arabesques, it felt. 

“Never. Jaime. . .please.” Her eyes opened. She grabbed him and gave him an imploring look. His green eyes were molten emeralds, dazzling her. He grinned, continuing to rub her. She swallowed. “Not here. We can;t. . .”

He took pity on her but wanted her so much right then. Will I ever stop wanting her this much? Never. “Where? Where can we fuck?”

Jaime expected her to pull him inside a bathroom. Or one of the classrooms. He got the shock of his life when Brienne pulled him out in the football field, tugged him behind her as she led him under the bleachers and once there, slammed him against one of pillars and kissed him hungrily, greedily. He forgot the pain that exploded from his head. Didn’t feel the dragon’s egg-sized lump that had begun to form at the back of it.

Clothes flew off until they were on the grass. Brienne protested loudly when Jaime tossed away her underwear, far from the clothes scattered around them before it was snatched by a gust of wind and thrown far away. It was the feral look on his face that stopped her and she shrank back on the ground, feeling herself go liquid and soft and mushy all at once. He spread her thighs wide open and licked his lips. 

Her bush was thick and blond, made dark by her honey. Droplets of her hunger clung at their tips like tiny diamonds. He pushed her legs farther apart until her inner lips parted, revealing glistening pink flesh. He lowered his head and breathed in her secret scent, drawing it deep in his lungs. Her face was hot as she glimpsed the pure rapture on his face. Jaime Lannister was a sensualist, he liked to feel everything and draw it out. 

"Please," she whispered raggedly as his head bent towards the wet feast before him. Her clit was was swollen and fat and he hadn't even touched her yet. 

"Mine," he whispered just before he dragged his tongue leisurely up and down her seam. Then he swirled it around her clit. 

Her fingers clung to his hair and she grunted as if in pain. 

He laughed as she pumped against his face, her clit bumping his nose, her scent and her cunt his world at this very moment. He thumbed her open and pushed his tongue in. Brienne screamed and dug her nails in the grass as she came seconds later. Jaime, calling on the Seven to help him hold on just a bit longer, hooked one of her legs over his arm and guided himself in her still-trembling cunt. His thumb on her clit flung her to another wild orgasm before allowing himself that wonderful release.

A while later, the sun peeked in slim shafts, weakened light on entangled limbs,sweating skin, red cheeks, dark green eyes. “Not out there but out _here?_ You _are_ unbelievable, Brienne Tarth,” he told her in the aftermath, panting. They were both sweating heavily. She playfully slapped him on the cheek and buried her hot face in his chest. She was sorry that they had to leave a while later, for laying on the grass with the man she loved, in a place where she had faced much torment, made her wish for time to stop.

Soon, they were fucking all over Tarth. Jaime couldn’t believe it. Brienne was astounded with herself. She was never this. . .needy. She had never wanted anyone like this, or experienced want this intense. Yet she was pulling over on the shoulder of the road, crawling over the console to straddle Jaime while he reclined the passenger seat, smirking as he ripped open her shirt. She came with his lips tight around her nipple and his fingers deep in her cunt. Then she made him come by pushing the seat back, squeezing herself between his legs as she knelt and took him deep in her throat. Jaime was never going to forget that--her eyes both silvery and dark as she sucked him, her cheeks flushed despite the cool breeze coming through the window. He roared his release by chanting her name. When she rose to straddle him and take him in her cunt, he grabbed her head down and kissed her, sucking at her tongue, liking his flavor on her.

Once, after they had gone for an after-dinner stroll around the grounds of Evenfall Hall, they somehow ended up on the ground. Jaime thanked the Seven that at last Brienne had worn a skirt, and he swore harshly when he found her wet and bare under it. His own eyes had glazed from his own orgasm, and a part of it was due to her response as she knelt over him, arching her back as she came, as if offering herself to the Seven tits-first. Jaime was sure stars had descended on them because he saw silver and white as he shot his semen in her. Their cries were harsh and loud and when Jaime started to fuck her again, Brienne tried to clamp down on the sounds emitting from her. She resisted, shaking her head wildly when he begged her to let him hear her. It was his fingers and cock in her cunt that left her with no choice but to do as he requested, as he knew she liked, loudly. 

They went on a morning run up the hills and Brienne ended up bare-assed against the tree, her legs tight around Jaime’s flexing hips. He pressed kisses on the scratches on her back when she turned around and he fucked her from behind. When they got home, she was still swollen and tender and the scent on their fucking was still fresh--she was still damp and rued at how the tights clung to her and teased her. Jaime was no help, of course, telling her their combined scent was his new favorite perfume.

When Uncle Endrew forgot his medication in his office at the motorbike shop, Brienne volunteered to get them and Jaime went with her.

They ended up fucking behind the counter. Jaime initially wanted them to do it one on of the bikes, wanting to see if the porn he saw once was realistic. Brienne frowned, growling her refusal as he pointed out the pros. But she got through him, or maybe the small, thinking part of his brain kicked in was more like it, and decided it wasn’t a smart thing to do and porn was never realistic. 

He had her straddle him. The grip of her muscular thighs around him and the force of her thrusts, tentative yet hard, had given him bruises—bruises he wore proudly. “The things I do for love,” he announced to her in their bedroom that night as he displayed them. Mortified and the exact crimson shade of Lannister, Brienne apologized profusely. He kissed them away but she managed to push him off her and tell him firmly that no, she did not relish hurting him. “But you didn’t mean it and I got them from loving you,” he pointed out.

“Still,” she insisted.

“I’m not glass,” he growled.

“No. You’re my Jaime.”

He smiled. “Say it again.”

“No.”

“No, what you just called me.”

Confused, she said, “Uh, Jaime?”

“The other way, Brienne.”

She husked in his ear but he felt her face heating up anyway, “ _My_ Jaime.”

“Again.”

“My Jaime.” She pulled away and looked at him with round, sapphire eyes. 

He wanted to lose himself in them.“Your Jaime,” he whispered.

They may have been making love wherever they wanted but they also talked and got to know each other more. Jaime put his arm around Brienne’s shoulders when they walked around her high school after their time at the football field. She told him about discovering she had talent with volleyball, how her English teacher talked to her after class to praise her for an essay she wrote. He couldn’t take his eyes off her when she told him about prom. No one asked her and she didn’t want to go—she never looked good in dresses and couldn’t just be in them. She drove to the beach where she had a bonfire and burned the romance novels she loved so much. “I stopped believing in princes, in romantic heroes,” she told him. “That’s when I discovered medieval literature and from then on, decided I was going to be my own knight. I was going to be my hero.”

At a picnic by the river, over grilled cheese and tomato sandwiches, Jaime shared about sneaking out of the boys’ quarters after the lights were out. He was roommates with Oberyn Martell, a prince of Dorne. Though they were both still boyish-looking, they were tall, not to mention Oberyn’s slick confidence and Jaime’s easy charm, they were let through in bars and clubs that wouldn’t even admit anyone under twenty-one. “We went for the beer and the girls,” he told Brienne as he offered her a sip of chardonnay from his tumbler. “It was fun and exciting but it quickly got old for me. I still went with Oberyn because for the first time in my life, no one was whispering behind me, `Ah, you’re that Lannister.’ It’s too dark in those places to recognize anyone. I was free, I could do whatever I wanted but that wasn’t what I wanted. At least, that’s not how I wanted my life to be. It was liberating there but it was also a glimpse of where my life would possibly go. I was seventeen but too many beers and girls frightened me.”

It was at the pier, towards sunset, when Brienne told Jaime about her mother. That she knew how different her life would be if she hadn’t died. He nodded, picturing it easily. She would be confident, she would love herself. She would look people right in the eye and glory in her tall height, her powerful form. But wasn’t she getting there, slowly but surely? Yet it was something to think about, a different Brienne, a different life. He made sure not to think about it too much, and was glad when she leaned her head against his shoulder. He kissed her hair, his arms tight around her. The wind blew and he tightened his embrace. He was not letting _this_ Brienne go.

Talking about his mother was difficult for Jaime too. He would never tell Brienne this but in some way, she was lucky that Arianne died before she knew her. Jaime remembered too well the mischief in Joanna’s emerald eyes when they played in the garden back at Casterly Rock, the soft, gentle scent of her soap and clean skin, carried by the wind when he knelt beside her as she taught him how to use a trowel, that the strawberry patch must be protected from pests. He didn’t have to think too hard to remember the weight and warmth of her hand on his cheek when she would kiss him good night, and the way he leaned into her touch and begged for another story. 

They had never talked about their mothers like this. As she listened to Jaime, she found herself wishing they known each other earlier, around that time. She thought that since she lost her mother first, she could have helped Jaime with his own loss. Maybe she would have found a way for him to be less lonely. It grieved her that there was nothing to be done about the past. But she could love him, give him all the love he had lost. She kissed him, and as was her habit, put her hand on his cheek. Jaime pressed it closer there with his hand. That night he slept in her arms, lulled to dreams by the strong beating of her heart under his cheek.

They couldn’t get enough of each other. Each tucked away new tidbits of information gleaned. Brienne knew Jaime hated vegetables but he detested Brussels sprouts and broccoli above all. Jaime learned that Brienne liked an unhealthy and in his opinion, lethal amount of Dornish spices in her food. She had a faint birthmark in the shape of the crescent moon at her back, under all those freckles, by her hip. His armpit hair was thicker under the left than the right. She was closest to Uncle Galladon and soon, Jaime was in this circle too. She wrote bad poetry. He told her he used to ask girls out, in high school, by throwing crumpled paper at the back of their heads, which had them giving him death stares. But he was captain of the soccer team, good-looking, sought-after. He would point at the paper and signal them to open it. It always said this: “Do you think me pretty too? Tick the box for yes or no. If yes, let’s hang out. If no, my heart is in pieces.”

Brienne burst out laughing. “Jaime! You fucking didn’t!” 

“Well, no one chose no,” He pointed out, laughing too.

“Gods. Girls are so stupid.”

“Boys too. But maybe I’m onto something. You think me pretty too, Brienne? If yes, we’ll fuck. If no, we’ll fuck until you say yes.”

“We both know you’re the pretty one. You can have all the looks just as long as I get the brains.”

“But I’m more than a pretty face!”

“Riiight.”

On their last afternoon in Tarth, Brienne took Jaime to the Maiden’s Cove. It was at the bottom of the mountain where Evenfall Hall stood. She drove part of the way until they had to climb down to it on foot. Jaime patted his pocket as he got out of the jeep.  
She guided him through the jagged, rocky edge, telling him over her shoulder where to put his hand, place his foot. The scent of the sea was strong until Jaime could no longer remember what air smelled like without it. He breathed it in, stopping momentarily, before he resumed following her. 

Brienne told him they’ll have to crawl. Jaime cautioned her to be careful, noticing that the rocks were sharp and could cut herself. He smiled against her kiss before she pulled away and got on all fours. He licked his lips at the sight of her firm behind in her cut-offs. Sure enough, she narrowed her eyes at him. 

“Try not to slip on your own drool,” she told him and crawled away.

Jaime went on all fours too. It was dark in the cave and there was water up to his ankles but he could see the light at the end of it. A white beam with the promise of sapphire water. Distracted, he didn’t notice that Brienne had stopped and he smooshed his face right into her buttocks.  
Brienne jerked. “Jaime!”

“I wasn’t looking!” But instead of moving away, he nuzzled the back of her thighs. Goosebumps sprang on the freckled skin. His beard was so rough on her thighs, Brienne thought, but so good.

“Stop. I stopped because I think I scratched my hand. But it’s too dark to see.”

“I’ll kiss it later,” Jaime told her. “Go on.”

It took only a few seconds and then they were straightening up, blinking at the sudden explosion of sun, marvelling at the clear, sapphire color of the ocean. Brienne turned to him, her hair blowing in all directions. Her eyes seemed to overwhelm her face. “What do you think?”

“Beyond words,” he said, his eyes squinting from the force of the wind. He smiled at her. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

Brienne kissed him, moaning when his tongue licked her lips. “Thank you for being with me,” she whispered.

He pressed his forehead against hers while he plucked at the buttons of her shirt. “What now?”

Her sigh warmed his face as he fully opened her shirt. She wore a black halter bikini. He remembered buying it for her from a shop a couple of days ago, then presenting it to her when he got home. She was red in the face by the time he convinced her to try it on. She had never worn a bikini before, always one-piece, practical swimsuits. He smiled reverently as he circled a finger around a nipple, feeling it harden then strain against the fabric, wanting his touch. She whispered his name and breathed hard, sending a violent gust of air toward his nose. 

As Jaime removed the rest of her clothes, his eyes ate up the pale, freckled skin, lots of it, the black sections of the bikini that covered little yet still gave her modesty. The bikini bra was a halter style that tied at her nape, suggesting a more feminine shape of her body. The bottoms were low-rise, perfect for showing her toned stomach, and cut high. Long thighs and endless legs. As her shorts fell, Jaime put his arm around her waist and kissed her, murmured, “You’re mouthwatering.”

She was blushing and laughing. “I know where that’s going. I want to swim first before you have me, Jaime.”

And then she shoved him away playfully, her laughter loud as he toppled back in the sand. He shook his head as she raced to the water.  
“Oh, I am having you!” He yelled after her. “And you’re never gonna want me away from you!”

Before Brienne threw herself in the water, she turned to him. Her smile was crooked but big, warm and happy. Her eyes looked bluer as the ocean that was their exact color beckoned behind her. Cupping her hands around her mouth, she shouted, “It’s too late, Jaime Lannister!”

Challenge accepted. Jaime tore off his t-shirt. He pulled off his shorts, folding them carefully before taking her discarded clothes and putting a rock over them. Down to his dark gray trunks, he ran to the water. “Watch me!”

Brienne, floating on her back and loving the sun on her, shrieked when Jaime grabbed her ankle from under. She closed her mouth just in time, held her breath as he dragged her underwater. She managed to kick him on the side and in doing so, bobbed out. She gasped as her head broke through the surface. He followed a second later and in revenge, shook his head, sending a spray of salty water right at her.  
They played and tackled each other like children, their laughter rising over the waves. Then they kissed. Their arms went around each other. Smoldering green looked into slumberous blue. Maybe it took a nod, or a secret look, but they were soon leaving the water, arms around each other. 

What little clothes they had were removed with kisses. Jaime pulled her up his lap, groaning as her legs went around him. He locked his arms on her waist. "Tighter," he whispered. She obliged, her cheeks burning a more vivid red. 

Brienne looked at Jaime as he surged into her, she put her hands on his face. He gasped because this innocent touch of hers was often his undoing, shattered him in the most wonderful way. He chanted her name as he loved her. She couldn’t think of anything to say, too overwhelmed, her heart too big and too full. Touch him, hold him, they were the only things left to do.  
Afterward, as Jaime lay in her arms, his lips tracing the curve of her cheeks, she turned to him. He pushed at the locks of straw blond hair drifting to her forehead and her cheek. How had she arrived at this moment? She wondered, thinking back on the life she had before Jaime Lannister swooped in and claimed her heart. He watched her as she pulled his hand to her chest, right on her heart. It fluttered under his palm, sure yet delicate as a dove. 

“Brienne,” her name was his exhale.

“I love you,” she told him. Still holding his hand to her heart, she continued. “Until the sun rises in the west and sets in the east. Until the rivers run dry, and the mountains blow in the wind like leaves.”

She only wanted to say what had been long in her heart but had always been too afraid. No more.

Jaime’s eyes took an extra shine and he blinked, surprising her when a tear slid down his cheek. When he spoke, his voice seemed dragged from deep inside.

“I will love you longer than this life and the next, and all that comes after. But be with me now, Brienne. Be with me so we can begin with the rest of our lives.” Jaime took his hand from her heart and brushed his fingertips on her lips. Just like the first time, he thought.

She nodded.

Despite his tears, he laughed. “This is not how I intended to do this.”

She froze, realization slowly creeping in. “Do what?”

Chuckling, Jaime rolled off her. He groaned that he hadn’t thought to propose with sand in the crack of his ass and she rolled her eyes, telling him it wasn’t her idea to be dragged from the water and fucked. 

“ _Don’t_ say fuck. I’m trying to propose here!”

“Could’ve fooled me. Really, Jaime. It’s really romantic when you complain about sand in. . .those parts.”

She sat up and brushed off the sand that still clung to her skin. As he searched through the small pile under a rock, she tied on her bikini top. The bottom was missing but Jaime’s discarded trunks were nearby.

When Jaime turned to her, black velvet box in hand, she was wearing her black bikini with his gray trunks. Her hair was damp and unruly, she was lobster-red from the sun and fucking, her eyes were blue light, her lips red from their kisses. She couldn’t have looked more beautiful to him at that moment. He looked down at himself and surprised her with the pink in his cheeks.

“We can’t tell our children I proposed to their mother in my birthday suit and a boner,” he said.

Brienne winked. “I like you that way. Clothes are tragic on you. The, uh, boner is a nice bonus.”

“I hate to disappoint you, my wife, but I will do this in the right way,” Jaime said, reaching for his shorts. He winced as he zipped up over his erection. Covered now, he went back to her, stretching his long, muscled legs next to hers. 

“Wife?” She raised her eyebrow at him. Her chin rested on her large fist. “You haven’t asked me yet.”

“You’ve known for a while I’m going to do this,” Jaime said, exasperated. “And not once you’ve told me how you feel about it. That’s really shitty of you, Brienne Tarth.”

“Jaime! You don’t say shitty when proposing, come on!”

“Will you just let me do it already?”

“Fine.” 

They may be arguing but they were grinning at each other. 

Serious now, Jaime got on one knee.

Brienne guffawed. “What the fuck?"

“Do you want me to ask you or not?” He snapped. "And don't say `fuck'--really, what do you want to tell our children?"

“I’m sorry. Yes. Please, Jaime.”

He took a deep breath. “Brienne Tarth,” he said, his voice warm and smiling. He opened the box. In it was an oval sapphire ring surrounded by diamonds. It winked under the sun. “Ever since you kicked your way into my life and hit me with your shoe in the process, and those beautiful, astonishing eyes of yours looked at me, you have been in my mind, in my dreams. But I want, above all, a life with you. A life of loving you more each day because, my Brienne, that is the only thing to do with you. Love you harder. Love you more. With this ring, I need your agreement to let me spend the rest of my life loving you. Will you marry me?” 

She nodded, biting her lip. 

“Tell me, please,” he begged her.

“Yes.” She blinked back tears. “Jaime, _yes._ I want a life with you, a life where I just can’t help but love you deeper than all yesterdays. I will marry you. Yes. Yes, Jaime, yes!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While most guys do it with candlelight and roses, Jaime does it with sand in the crack of his ass. Oh, man.


	24. Oathkeeper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something else happens while Jaime puts the ring on Brienne.

Maiden’s Cove, The Isle of Tarth  
Somewhere in time

 

Though change was a faint bustle around her, she still saw the Sapphire Isle as it used to be. Its waters were still clear, the color of the most brilliant gemstone of its name under the sun. She saw people cutting fast, as if in the air, in transport that she found too loud, too fast, too dangerous—she saw the riders having to don a special bulky headwear that she supposed were similar to what the knights wore. There were even horseless carriages! Much faster. But she wondered what it would be like to ride them.

She had been here for a long time. That, she was sure about. How long, she didn't. Strangely, she wasn't impatient. She knew time was passing yet didn't feel it. 

She sat on a rock that looked out in the cove. She sent her thoughts and dreams across the sea. Ridiculous as it was but she believed he heard her.

For who else would be walking towards her and now, slowly folding himself to sit beside her?

“Took you long enough,” she said, her blue eyes flickering at him. There was a little reproach in her tone. She sounded a little breathless because her heart had raced when she felt him.

His hair, rich and gold in the sun, was still the same length that just brushed his shoulders. The waves looked a bit scraggly but this did little in getting in the way of his good looks. His eyes had deeper lines around them but his gaze was still very green and alert.

“I tried to get here as fast as I could. How long were you waiting?”

“Who knows?”

He looked at her then slowly nodded. “You look the same yet different. Your hair’s no longer the color of straw.”

“White. I got older,” she told him. 

“Those eyes are the same but they’ve lost some of their sparkle. Because of me.”

“No.”

“Yes,” he insisted.

“You had to leave.”

“You could have come with me.”

“You knew my duty.”

“You knew how I feel.”

“And you knew my heart.”

“Too well.”

But he reached for her hand. Threaded his fingers in between hers. Their palms were rough, their fingers calloused. Too many fights, too many battles. She looked at their joined hands. Too many losses.

“I never forgot the day I left. It was here. The last time I saw you was from a ship and standing right here. You were the saddest, most heartbreaking thing I’ve seen. And I thought I was done, that my heart was already gone. The pain reminded me of it.”

“Was I wrong?” She asked him. She tugged at him so he would look at her. “Was I wrong to send you away?”

“You gave me ten more years. Ten years that went too long without you. And then. . .you weren’t there. You made me wait.” His tone was accusatory but his eyes were warm.

“You commanded me to live. I wanted to throw myself on Oathkeeper so many times.”

“Had that happened, wherever I was, _however_ I was, I would have throttled you and given you a beating you wouldn’t forget. You swore to me a holy vow.” 

“I wished to take it back but where would I find you? And I couldn’t risk finding you.”

“Indeed. But to make that sacrifice?”

“Sacrifice? One night. That was more than enough for me. Even before that, I knew there will be no one else. Only you.”

He kissed her hand, moved by the sincerity of her words.

“You deserve better.”

“Stop.”

“We deserved better than we had. I. . .I would have married you, if only you let me. Children with you that I could hold and claim as mine. Nights where you loved me. Days where I loved you.”

“Well, we’re here now. There are no more wars. None of the things that made us question everything.”

“Not you. You I never questioned. You’re the one good thing to come out of this.”

“So are you. You are, please believe me. Look.”

Then she pointed at Jaime Lannister and Brienne Tarth. He was sliding a ring down her finger. She had her hand clamped on her mouth. Then he was pulling her in his arms. She buried her fingers in his hair as they kissed.  


“You told me we will see each other again, in dreams, in another life. That was all I had as I continued with the rest of my days, knowing that I’ll be seeing you again. It did not matter when, just as long as I got to see you with my own eyes. Now you’re here. Touching me. It is more than I hoped for.”

“I wish you didn’t ask so little for yourself.”

“You are not little.”

He grinned and she wanted to hit him. “Surely not.”

“You swore to me. I was crying, questioning as I was bringing you here, if it was the right thing. I too, wanted a life with you. Children. Loving you. But this is my home and there are people—“

“I never begrudged you that.”

“That’s what makes you honourable. You hated what must be done but you understood. You let me send you away. I knew if you were safe and alive and my home is untouched, then that was to be my life.”

“Honourable. Only you.”

“You are. When will you believe me?”

He gazed at the couple she had pointed out. He felt exhilarated, alive and it was funny to feel these things. She was looking at him as he watched them.

“You feel it too? Their joy?”

“Yes. As if we’re a part of them. Or we’re them. It’s difficult to understand. I know we’re right here but we seem to be there with them. Does it make sense?”

“Maybe there are things that will simply never be understood.”

“Not this,” he brought her hand to his lips.

Her smile was shy as she watched him.“Ser, now will you tell me what happens next?” 

“Now?” He looked in her eyes and saw himself clearly for the first time. Sapphires that had followed him everywhere, that led him at her side, finally.“Now we are together, wench. At last.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what do you think of the last chapter/the ending?  
> Additional: Watch out for the long oneshot fic of this story. We want to know how Brienne and Selwyn fixed things, don't we? And the Tarths' reaction to the engagement!

**Author's Note:**

> This happens sometime after Then Came You. So no kids yet!


End file.
